Rare Gifts
by Jennifer Lynn Weston
Summary: In the Post-Abducted AU, Jack and James enjoy the mixed benefits of having a family, as the seasons, years and decades flow by. Rated G to PG-13, for some harsh talk and sensuality.
1. Chapter 1

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney_

xxx

"Grazie, Signore. Tenga il resto." Norrington smiled as he pressed a stack of Euros into the driver's hand. The dour fellow just nodded and drove off.

James stretched, looking fondly about the little plaza with it's yellow-and-blue painted tiles. He'd deliberately had the cab drop him off a few blocks from home, so he could have a walk through the pleasant Capri streets- get some of the exercise he hadn't on the just-completed mission. That had involved posing as a London cabbie, in a taxi rigged to break down short of Heathrow Airport. This had prevented his passenger from catching her plane, so she'd never meet the man booked for the seat beside hers, who'd otherwise conceive a child on her that would grow to disturbed adulthood and do serious damage to both her and the timelines.

It was a typical 'Low Hazard' assignment; the sort he and Meredith had requested after they'd discovered Mare was with child. And which they'd stick to until little Lysander was at least a teenager.

Norrington rubbed one ear wryly. Whoever'd classified that job as 'Lo-Haz' had obviously never experienced the ire of a woman about to miss her flight.

At least he hadn't needed to spend much time in transit. He'd made use a 'Corridor'- a phenomena similar to a Time Net, except it only transversed physical distances. Murphy's People had established these to expedite the transport of senior Operatives. According to Murphy, the use of Corridors was far less problematic since their crossed trails posed no danger to the timelines.

James turned onto a certain walkway, sloped and lined with flower boxes. He did rather miss the more-challenging Missions he and Mare had performed during their first two years as Operatives. Jack was still doing those, of course. That ex-pirate would go stir-crazy, restricted to tasks like transferring a bit of fungus to a researcher's petri dish, or swiping just the right page from a reporter's notebook.

Norrington smiled to catch a fragrant whiff from a tree festooned with wide pink blossoms. The afternoon weather was fine. Perhaps he'd take Lysee down to the small sandy beach, in the rock-sided cove downhill from their villa. His daughter was normally a bundle of energy, always wanting to go someplace or other. If there was such a thing as reincarnation- and James had seen too much to dismiss the possibility- then Lysander Anne Norrington just might be the embodiment of her long-dead Aunt Esther.

But she'd been uncharacteristically subdued these past couple days, due to the loss of her pet ring dove. Cocoa had died suddenly, as birds were prone to do- cooing robustly one evening, splayed on his cage floor the following morn. The bewildered child was having difficulty coming to terms with the tragedy.

It seemed overly capricious that, within this same week before her seventh birthday, staunch old Royal was also failing. It had been months since that amiable dog had been able to accompany Lysee to the cove- his aged hips could no longer manage the descending staircase. Now he'd reached the point where just getting up from his cushion was so painful he only did it when he absolutely had to.

James sighed within, recalling how he'd acquired the mutt. That was during the last Mission he and Mare had accomplished prior to confirming her pregnancy... a heart-wrenching one. Port Royal in Jamaica, June 9, 1692; just two days after a devastating earthquake had caused most of the city's northern section to slide into the sea. Somebody had to make sure a certain homeless family made it onto a rescue ship heading for New Orleans. The family would do well there, and one of their descendants would become an American president.

Norrington had received that assignment due to his familiarity with both the era and place. Meredith had insisted on coming along, for moral support. She knew how it would grieve him to see his former home port in ruins.

They'd completing the assigned task without complications. Six gold guineas passed to the Mouette's captain had secured a berth for the ragged but newly-hopeful refugees. The two rescuers then hastened from town, to the hidden arrival/retrieval point. They'd just gotten past the last demolished building when a largish mongrel trotted right up to them- bony, mud-caked, tail all awag. As if it'd been awaiting them and was relieved they'd finally made it.

Mare, who liked dogs, immediately wanted to take this one back. The animal was clearly on it's way to starving; surely removing it from this time would cause no disruption of events. James would have refused, if the beast hadn't borne such close resemblance to Fort Charles' jailhouse dog- could, in fact, be a direct descendant. If nothing else, the 21st century could offer a merciful death by injection, rather than a lingering one amidst this sodden wreckage.

Fortunately Murphy, after consulting whatever it was he consulted, declared it a permissible relocation. After routine cleaning and decontamination (of all of them), they'd brought their new pet back to the Capri villa. Mare christened him 'Port Royal' (soon shortened), and her careful tending soon restored the animal to healthy weight and vigor.

Sparrow and Royal took a while to warm up to each other- the dog seemed particularly wary if Jack got anywhere near his chew bones- but eventually they'd became friends. Royal had provided good company for Mare when she'd been obliged to stay home through her final month of pregnancy. She'd been amused at his habit of staring knowingly at her big abdomen, thumping his tail in anticipation. When Lysander did come out, it was love at first sniff. No child had ever grown up with a more devoted and trustworthy canine companion.

Now the aged dog was virtually bed-bound. His eyes and tail still had some spirit- particularly whenever Lysander was nearby- but Norrington knew those would soon fade, too. He and Mare had decided to wait until then to put the poor creature down. Their daughter needed to see for herself, that it truly was the kindest option.

James continued his uphill walk, trying to take heart from the prospect of his daughter's greeting. He knew Mare wouldn't be home yet; she'd phoned earlier to report she'd been summoned to deal with some computer-related problem. Their helpful neighbor, Madilena Gazillo, would be watching Lysee. Though not quite a picture of maternity- lean, beak-nosed, unprone to smiling- Signora Gazillo was unquestionably responsible, and clearly fond of the bright, reasonably well-behaved bambina. Lysander, in turn, liked the Signora. She could do interesting things with hair, and her voice was comfortable, even sans smile.

Sparrow hadn't been available to baby-sit because he'd left early that morning (Capri time) for Florida, being due for his quarterly (as in quarter-century) dip in the Aqua de Vida. He'd probably be back by dinnertime, for he was also traveling by Corridor. There were restrictions on Operatives making non-Mission of those, but Jack had bought the privilege with a couple particularly well-executed assignments. Murphy understood the value of offering earned bonuses.

Lysander hadn't been told the details, of course. They couldn't risk the child passing on stories to her playmates and being teased about lying (or worse, being believed.) She'd just been informed Cousin Jack had been feeling tired lately, so was going to get some treatment to help him feel better.

James climbed the last steps to the Weinstein Villa's north entrance- informally the Norringtons' half of the house. He pushed his hand to the security panel to open the door. As he stepped inside, a missile, shaped like a small girl in a lavender sunsuit, hurled straight for him.

"Daddy! Benvenuti a casa!"

"Buon giorno, gattina!" Norrington scooped up his daughter, hugging her close to bestow a big kiss. Lysee's newest hairstyle glinted before his eyes; an artful arrangement of looped red braids.

"Grazioso- mi piace questo!" He straightened to regard the woman beyond; a slim dark-skirted presence. "Hai fatto un buon lavoro, come sempre."

The lady nodded. "Prego, Signore Norrington. Signorina Lysander era una brava ragazza di oggi. Per la maggior parte."

"Sono lieto di sentire che. Il vostro aiuto è molto apprezzato, Signora Gazillo."

"Nessun problema." The woman retrieved her big fuschia bag from a hallway chair. "Mi dispiace, ma ora devo lasciare. Arrivederci."

"Arrivederci, Signora Gazillo!" Lysander called, waving vigorously as the woman took her leave.

James, still holding Lysee, tugged playfully at one gleaming plait. "Were you trying to look like your Cousin Jack?"

"No. I think Mrs. Gazillo jus' likes to braid hair."

"I know she likes braiding yours. It's so pretty, and she doesn't have many redheads among her clientele."

"She should do Mommy's hair."

"Your Mommy prefers to do her own. That's one matter I have no say in, mio caro."

James carried his little girl from the front hall to the spacious copper kitchen, where he set her down. "I feel like having a cup of coffee. What about you?"

"Mocha frappuccino!" Lysee punctuated the exclamation with a little jump. Now that was his girl.

"I didn't really need to ask, did I?" Her father grinned as he opened a cupboard. "I'm very glad to see you're feeling better, gattina."

"Cousin Jack said he's gonna try to make Royal all well," the girl explained.

That gave James pause. For the first time, he looked to the big blue cushion beside the back door. It was vacant.

"Where is Royal?"

"Cousin Jack took him along. He says the treatment will prob'ly work on dogs, too."

Comprehension hit Norrington all at once. "Sparrow took that dog to...!"

A three-note chime rang, signaling someone had just entered through the south door. There was a fast scramble of paws through the length of the house, and a shaggy gray beast barreled in- graceless, hearty and energetic as any puppy.

Lysee's delighted eyes went round as saucers. "Royal!"

Any first impression Norrington had- that Jack had simply brought home a lookalike- was dashed by the dog's response to that; the voice of his very favorite human. Royal started jumping all over her, barking and licking, tail blurred as a helicopter blade. The child shrieked happily.

Seconds later, Jack himself made a grand entrance, wearing a new tee shirt with a goofy cartoon alligator. The spring in his step denoted more than a fine mood. "Greetings, Lysee- happy early birthday to you! An' isn't that a bonnie new 'do! James- good to see you too!"

"Thank You Thank You Thank You!" Lysander launched herself out of the child-dog whirlwind to flung arms around her cousin's waist, hard.

"Oofff! Easy on the goods, chit!" Sparrow pretended to complain. Royal bounded around the two, still barking excitedly.

James decided it was time to reel things in. "Lysee, you know the kitchen's not a good place to play. Why don't you take Royal down to the cove instead? Just don't go in the water."

"Aye- he can handle those stairs now! It'll be a long time before they'll give him any more trouble!" Jack echoed.

"Okay!" The girl snatched up her beach bag (always kept on the door-side hook), pulled open the sliding door and raced from the house. Royal went along, bouncing on every side of her at once.

Norrington faced Jack squarely. And experienced a subtle shock. This was the first time he'd seen Sparrow fresh from 'treatment'. No single change to the pirate's hard-to-age features was prominent, but the collective effect... James was confronting a dashing young knave about half his physiological age. Which was certainly a better indicator of Jack's emotional maturation.

"Theer'll be no charge fer the expenses, ol' Commodore. 'Tis my birthday gift to the lass!" the knave assured, beaming.

Norrington drew a careful breath. "Sparrow, we need to talk."

Jack's happy smile drooped at James' tone. "What about?"

"You really should have gotten our permission before you did this."

"I thought it'd be more sharply delightful if it was a surprise! Like unwrapping a present!" Sparrow seemed genuinely taken aback by James' lack of total approval.

Norrington steeled himself to impart a needed, if possibly unenjoyable lesson- something he'd been obliged to do regularly since becoming a father.

"The thing is, you mustn't give her unrealistic expectations. We can't have her thinking you'll perform a miraculous cure whenever Royal..."

"Why not? I'm willing ta make the effort! I'll use all my bonus points if necessary!"

"The problem isn't with your being willing or able. We can not allow her such an unrealistic world view," James insisted sternly. "You never had a pet as a kid, so probably don't realize they provide a crucial life-lesson: that every living thing- good or bad- eventually grows old and dies. The passing of my own childhood dogs taught me this. Lysee needs to learn it, too."

Jack's jovial mood was quite gone. "An' when were you plannin' to mention there's a variable?"

"As with other 'facts of life', we'll tell her about the Fountain when we believe she's of sufficient age. Mare and I are postponing our own first treatment for exactly that reason. We'll wait until Lysander is old enough to have some comprehension of what the Aqua de Vida is: a very rare privilege. Not something to take for granted. It's an option she should ponder carefully- preferably for years- before she decides whether or not to use it. She'll only be able to make a responsible choice if she understands the natural roles of life and death. Surely you can see this."

His friend was looking at the floor, wounded. "So my birthday present's not wanted."

"I didn't say that." Confound it, this was like dealing with a second child! "I just need you to understand why you must consult with Mare and myself, before doing anything like this again. We need to do what we think is best for Lysander, over the long run as well as the short run."

Sparrow tried to nod jauntily, but disappointment lingered in his eyes. This bothered James far more than an overt display. He set hands on the smaller man's shoulders, squeezing reassuringly.

"Now Jack, don't forget you're a former pirate captain- it's hardly piratical to sulk over hurt feelings. I know you meant well. To a large extent, you've even done well. You've made Lysee very happy, and I expect Mare will be too, when she gets home. Don't imagine I'm unappreciative of that." James glanced to the hook beside the kitchen window, where the birdcage used to hang. "And I will concede: Lysee has probably had sufficient hard life-lessons for one week. So, having made my point... I'll say no more about it."

Jack was making a visible effort to buck up. "Oh! Almost forgot- I also got her a souvenir of Florida." He pulled a folded green cloth from his pants pocket, shaking it out. It was a matching alligator tee, just the girl's size.

It was James' turn to grin. "I know she'll like that. Why don't you take it to her right now? She should have supervision on that beach. Preferably by an adult, but in lieu of that..."

The roguish mouth quirked. "Jus' let me get my trunks on." Jack slipped from Norrington's grip and exited the kitchen, heading for his own section of the house.

James sighed, as he resumed preparing his coffee. He didn't like reprimanding Sparrow for his misjudgments any more than he enjoyed disciplining his daughter, but both had to be done sometimes. Parental responsibilities were not to be shirked, no matter how burdensome.

He took bracing sips from the cup, as he crossed the living room to the marble balcony on the villa's southern side. That vivid-blue seascape was always worth looking at. He could not see the little cove from this vantage, but clearly heard the childish shouting below. And those familiar throaty barks he though he'd never hearken to again.

Now that all unpleasant duties were out of the way, Norrington could admit to feeling happy- even joyful- at the prospect of having Royal around for years to come. Jack might need to be more mindful about getting parental consent, but there was no faulting his motives. At least not about anything relevant to Lysander. Sparrow would walk into Hell for that little girl, James was sure.

_/ He's restored Lysee's pet to her... not much different from what a veterinarian would do. I must remember to give him a proper Thank You before the day's out. /_

Norrington gulped down the last of his coffee. Fatherhood was a balancing act for any man. He just had a couple extra jokers in his deck.

Speaking of jokers... he could now hear Jack's voice mingling with Lysee's and Royal's. Sounding cheerful enough. The ex-pirate was notably resilient, for which James was profoundly grateful. He felt strongly tempted to join the three. And, come to think of it, why shouldn't he?

Grinning, Norrington stepped inside to get into his own trunks. He'd paid sufficient parental dues for now. Time to collect his fair share of the privileges.

xxx

**FINIS**

xxx

Translations:

_Grazie, Signore. Tenga il resto. - Thank you, sir. Keep the change._

_Benvenuti a casa! - Welcome home!_

_Buon giorno, gattina! - Good day, kitten!_

_Grazioso- mi piace questo! - Pretty- I like this!_

_Hai fatto un buon lavoro, come sempre. - You did a fine job, as usual._

_Prego, Signore Norrington. - Thank you, Mr. Norrington._

_Signorina Lysander era una brava ragazza di oggi. Per la maggior parte. - Miss Lysander was a good girl today. For the most part._

_Sono lieto di sentire che. Il vostro aiuto è molto apprezzato, Signora Gazillo. - I'm glad to hear that. Your help is much appreciated, Mrs. Gazillo._

_Nessun problema. Mi dispiace, ma ora devo lasciare. Arrivederci. - No problem. I'm sorry, but I must leave now. Goodbye._

_mio caro - my dear_


	2. Chapter 2

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney_

xxx

This had been was one of those rare days when Norrington was neither on a Mission nor obliged to prepare for one. He'd enjoyed the chance to spend hours catching up on his reading, but was now experiencing a strong urge to be outdoors.

The spring temperatures permitted his leaving the door ajar as he stepped onto the south-side balcony. Straight ahead, the sea's dazzling Mediterranean hue had softened to slate blue under late afternoon sun. It was still glorious, of course- the times of day and seasons of the year simply produced variations on the beauty. James'd had no trouble believing Jack when he'd said this view was the main reason he'd retained possession of this villa for so long.

The former navyman leaned against the cool marble railing, inhaling the salt-scented breeze. Having such an exemplary residence was a greater kindness than he'd expected from life. Particularly through those abysmal months after he'd lost the _Dauntless_... wallowing amongst the literal and figurative filth of Tortuga. And what followed, after he'd finagled his way back into the Navy, was baser still. Moral compromise was a worse degradation by far.

It was more than slightly ironic, that the same scalawag who'd figured in his downfall had engineered this positive reversal of his fortunes. Captain Sparrow had given James the chance to leave his mistakes behind for good- to become everything he most wanted to be. A steadfast upholder of an honorable, and unfailingly interesting, position. Husband to a woman who was all he could have reasonably desired. Father to a most promising (if often challenging) bright-spirit of a child. His current happy circumstances were really nothing short of miraculous.

Norrington realized he was probably grinning in a most maudlin manner, but he didn't really care. Anyway, it was improbable anyone was looking in this particular direction just now...

The sound of bare footsteps on the balcony floor snapped his expression back to Commodorial dignity. The aforementioned scalawag, wearing thrown-on clothes and slept-in hair, swaggered over to join him at the rail. "Good afternoon to you, James. Though that seems a tad redundant." Jack regarded the vista approvingly.

"I shall take it in the spirit intended." James noted the platter-sized paper bag under Jack's arm, but didn't comment. "I was expecting you to sleep straight through 'til breakfast."

"I hardly need that much recovery time, cousin. I'm but a lad!"

"Ah, yes. I do keep forgetting."

"An' furthermore..." Sparrow hefted the bag, "... I felt need ta make some acknowledgment of the day."

Norrington stiffened alertly. The ex-pirate was sporting his 'laughing fox' face, as James called it- very reminiscent of an expression he'd once seen on the continence of a vixen who'd just outmaneuvered a pack of hounds. That always meant Jack had recently done, or was about to do, something he considered abnormally clever. Which did not always bode well.

The navyman eyed the bag with fresh suspicion. "What, exactly, is special about this day?"

"It's the Fifth of April."

Norrington frowned for only a second. "Oh... oh! So it is. So, that makes how many years, now?"

"Fifteen years to the day, since you made me the happiest bloke on earth!"

"I wasn't exactly grief-stricken about it either."

"Do you believe I'd do it all over again?"

"Yes, since most of the time I feel the same..."

"I've loved you more every day!"

James raised both hands. "Enough, Sparrow! You're really going over the top."

The smaller man shrugged disarmingly. "Jus' recitin' the traditional anniversary salutations, mate."

"That's for wedding anniversaries, numbskull. This is a... reunion anniversary."

Jack looked amused. "Still don't feel right callin' it a 'resurrection'?"

"I am not going over that again," James intoned firmly. "Furthermore, I am curious to know just what you've got inside that bag?"

"As mentioned, I considered this occasion ta be deservin' of a commemoration. Pardon the plain wrapping!"

Sparrow gave the bag a little toss; James caught it. "You're pardoned, I guess," he replied as he opened it. He drew forth a navy-blue felt tricorn, generously trimmed with gold braid. As he carefully turned it over, a sinister thought crossed James' mind. "You didn't steal this during a Mission, did you?"

"Nope. 'Bought it on e-Bay. From a lass who creates historically accurate headgear fer movie productions, an' also sells 'em online to folks willin' ta pay extra fer authenticity."

"She knows her job. This could pass for one I used to wear." Having completed his exam, James carefully settled the object onto his head, reminding himself the neighbors must have seen odder goings-on on this balcony. "The size is right, too. Many thanks, Jack."

"Yer welcome, Commodore." Sparrow straightened and snapped a proper military salute- no doubt learned during his stint impersonating a naval officer. "I thought this bit o' costuming might serve as a visual aide fer relatin' yer own tales of daring-do to yer offspring. Can't have the chit thinkin' I'm the only one who's done anythin' interestin'!"

"No, we certainly can't. Lysander shall be fully informed about the British Royal Navy's efforts to make the oceans safe. Somebody somewhere should be appreciative of what we did."

Jack arched a brow. "As Lysee would say, 'Bitter much, James?'"

"Annoyed, rather. By the public's tendency, then and now, to hold pirates in higher regard than honest navymen." Though his words were prickly, James' tone was matter-of-fact. "Consider that inequality from my point of view: you dedicate your entire life to protecting citizens' safety and property, putting your own life, and those of your men, at risk every day. In return, most of those citizens either take you for granted or treat you like a lowly subordinate. Whereas if you attack them, put them into situations of dire threat and then simply refrain from doing your worst to them, they sing your praises to the sky!"

Sparrow looked a tad abashed. "I didn't create that quirk of human nature, James. Merely exploited it."

"I know. I didn't intend to sound ungracious. The hat is much appreciated." Norrington gave said item an affectionate pat. "Regrettably, I did not remember this anniversary- I failed to get a present for you."

"The oversight's not irreparable, Commodore. Theer's somethin' of a nonmaterial nature you could give me." Jack waggled his eyebrows in that specific way to indicate exactly what he wanted.

But James looked away. "I don't think that would be appropriate now."

Sparrow's expression fell. "Why ever not?"

"When it was just the two of us sharing quarters that was a different situation. I have a family now."

Jack pulled a moue. "Is this some Quaker thing? Maybe this is included under that stipulation about 'forsaking all others'?"

"Don't be absurd."

"I can't think of any non-absurd explanations!"

Norrington himself was having difficulty understanding the reason for his reluctance. Certainly not because Mare was likely to object. "If you're really in the mood I can call an agency in town that makes house calls. They could send a professional over here within..."

"'Tain't the same, James! A massage always feels better when it's personal. Do you happen ta recall that first one you gave me during our tour of Paris?"

"I do, and I was gratified you enjoyed it so. But I didn't intend that to be interpreted as a lifelong contract."

"As you've re-accustomed me to the more satisfying version, the impersonal sort won't hardly do anymore."

James caught the inference. "'Re-accustomed'? Jack, have you got something to tell me?"

"I suppose." Sparrow fidgeted, like a kid on the verge of revealing a secret.

Norrington lowered himself into one of the patio chairs, gesturing for Jack to do likewise. "Perhaps you should start at the beginning."

Jack plunked down on the edge of the lounger. "This goes back a ways, to when I were jus' a whelp. Livin' on the Thames estuary with me Mum, in that miserable two-room walkup. A few times a year we'd happen ta get a bonnie evenin', when the wind was from the right quarter ta blow away the river stench, an' the sky'd get tarted up in her prettiest colors. Like those." Jack gestured towards the western horizon, now awash with watercolor pinks and pale blues.

"I know what you're referring to. I grew up in London too."

"On these occasions, Mum an' I would come out ta sit on the steps leadin' up to our flat. She'd take the top step, I'd sit close on the next one down. We'd ease back, gazin' at the sky, and she'd sing ta me. Real soft, in Hindi. Rather like that 'Boatman' song I'm partial to."

"I recall it."

"The combination would cast a sort of spell on me. I'd hold real still while she'd start grooming my hair with her fingers... combin', seperatin', strokin' it all inta place. I can't imagine any angel's touch bein' more soothing. Her hands'd make theer way over my scalp, then down to my shoulders, pressin' and squeezin' in that same pleasurable manner you do. Singing all the while.

"After a time this deep calm would settle over me, like some warm safe cloud. I'd watch darkness stealin' over the sky with no anxiety whatsoever. As if I'd achieved a whole 'nother level of perspective... like I knew fer certain that, whatever afflictions an' calamities might lie ahead fer me and the world, I could be absolutely sure everything'd work out all right in the end. 'Peace which passeth all understanding,' as some folk'd call it, though 'twas more like peace from understandin'. A more comprehending sort of comprehension than is generally achievable."

Jack paused, his eyes dark and liquid. "I haven't experienced that mood in many other circumstances. Around age seven I started refusin' ta participate- considered it beneath my advanced years. It weren't 'til I'd got well past my whelphood that I recognized what rare gifts those intervals had been. There's been many an occasion since, when I've hired a strumpet ta sing an' touch me in jus' that manner. Sometimes, that and naught else." His mouth quirked as if he'd made an embarrassing admission. "But it's never been the same. This isn't a thing I've divulged ta very many blokes, James. In point of fact, you jus' might be the first." Sparrow averted his gaze, almost shyly, regarding the pastel horizon with those child's eyes of his.

_/ And you've revealed it for the sole purpose of getting something you want from me... but perhaps that's forgivable. It_ is _our anniversary. /_

"Very well, then." James reached to lower the back of Jack's lounge to horizontal. "Lie down and try to relax."

Grinning widely, Jack shucked off his shirt and obeyed. The larger man moved his chair close beside the lounge, gave his palms a brisk rubbing, and set to work.

The ex-pirate sighed blissfully as James started kneaded the flesh between his shoulder blades. Norrington couldn't deny he felt good doing this- it brought back agreeable memories of their 'bachelor days' on Jack's Caribbean islet. So often they'd done this, beside the pool or on the living room couch. The breeze carried sounds of distant surf to his ears, as the pink splotch expanded to cover the western sky...

"Good evening, James. Jack."

Norrington almost started. Meredith had crossed the stone balcony so quietly he hadn't heard.

"Welcome home, darling," he greeted over his shoulder. His wife looked particularly choice in the rarified light, in that softly billowing blouse, gathered salmon skirt and semi-frazzled hair.

Jack opened one eye, content as a well-fed cat. "Good even ta you, Fair Mare. I take it you got all the chits and mutts settled in?"

"Uh-huh." Meredith counted off her fingers. "We assigned all the sleeping-bag and dog-bed spaces, got the bathroom schedules drawn up, and poured the human and canine snacks into bowls. Whereupon Mrs. Damato assured us she could handle it from there and shooed the parents away."

Norrington's head tilted, trying to envision such a scene. "Has it always been usual for girls to bring their pets to slumber parties, or is this a current fashion?"

"I think Cadera thought this up on her own, just because so many of her friends have dogs." Mare tugged the remaining deck chair beside James', sinking into it gratefully. "I never get tired of this view!"

Sparrow squirmed with pleasure as James' thumbs pressed along the length his spine. "Fer a stuffy Commodore yer hubby gives an admirable back-rub!"

"I know all about that." Mare smiled fondly. "Celebrating your anniversary, I take it?"

Norrington suppressed an eye-roll. "Does everybody consider this a major holiday other than me?"

"It's a significant date for me, too. The day my big strong navyman emigrated to an era when I could track him down him." Mare leaned to nuzzle her nose against that special spot behind James' left ear, her fingers deftly unfastened his top shirt button.

"Mare!" he hissed warningly. If she kept that up he'd be obliged to grab her and make a very fast retreat to their bedroom. Which would undoubtedly put Jack into a protracted snit.

The woman chuckled but withdrew a bit. "Here- you deserve a treat, too."

She snaked both hands under James' collar, gripped his shoulders and proceeded to give him a neck massage. He couldn't get the fullest effect with his own arm muscles working, but it still felt wonderful. "What are the neighbors going to think?" he muttered.

In the twilight he could barely see Jack's sly grin, but had no trouble hearing it. "They're going ta think, 'Nice hat!'"

James flinched to recall he was still wearing his shiny new tricorn. Oh, well- the damage was already done so he might as well sit back and enjoy it. He continued bestowing his best ministrations to Sparrow's back, even as he relished Mare's touch on his own.

"A fine pair of sybarites you two are," she purred.

"Aye! Happy anniversary, cousin," Jack echoed.

"Same to you, you lunatic."

Mare just giggled.

xxx

**FINIS**


	3. Chapter 3

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney_

_xxx_

The mounted narwhal tusk was a familiar object. James had first seen it in the den of Jack's Caribbean bungalow, hanging amidst a hodgepodge of other souvenirs. He much preferred the way it was displayed on Jack's Capri bedroom wall, accompanied only by a sheathed katana and a hand-woven African shawl. With no shinier clutter tugging the eye, a viewer could properly appreciate the understated beauty of this tapered ivory column, nearly a yard long, clamped in a simple brass hanging bracket.

"I'm sure Lysee will be delighted to get this. She's liked it since she was old enough to talk. Remember how she used to call it 'Cousin Jack's unicorn horn'?" Norrington smiled, recalling that long-gone toddler. He could hardly believe his little girl was about to turn twelve...

It took several seconds for him to notice Sparrow's alarming body language: shoulders shifting, feet scuffing the carpet. Obviously bracing to confess something.

Norrington braced himself in turn. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing's 'the matter', in the sense o' something bein' amiss, which is to say, potentially hurtful or damagin'."

"Then what has got you squirming?"

"I'm not squirmin'! Jus' need ta make a slight correction in yer understandably inaccurate perception."

James faced him squarely. "Give it to me fast."

"Well, as it happens, in actual strict accordance with the known facts..."

"WHAT?"

"... Lysee was correct."

Norrington gave Jack a very hard stare. To his disconcertment, the smaller man was sporting that innocently earnest look which generally meant he was speaking truthfully.

"Sparrow, you can't mean... surely you don't expect me to believe...!"

"Didn't have specific expectations in regards ta yer believin' it or not, James. Jus' thought I should let you know."

James controlled his rising urge to sputter. "This is too far-fetched to credit!"

The guileless brown eyes didn't waver. "Any more far-fetched than the actuality of the _Flying Dutchman_? Or of time-travelers?"

Oh, he would point that out! James' inner self flung up exasperated hands. Seemed like whenever he started to get a reassuring sense of where reality's boundaries actually were, a certain bothersome pirate would knock them askew again.

"You, Jack Sparrow, libertine extraordinaire, acquired this from a unicorn."

"Aye. But the particulars of my personality had naught ta do with it- I didn't say the beastie came ta me. 'Twas a chance meeting, 'least so far as I could tell. I do appear ta cross paths with more 'en my share of eldritch beings- which may not be entirely due ta happenstance- but that's a separate issue. So, did you want to hear the particulars?"

"As if I have any choice," Norrington grumbled. "It's like living with Commander McBragg."

"James! I'd no notion you were familiar with vintage cartoons!"

"I know about that one. Lysee has some eps on DVD- I could hardly help noticing the resemblance."

"Interesting you should say that. The good Commander was supposedly based on renowned tall-tale-teller Baron von Münchhausen, who weren't far removed from my Da's family tree..."

"Stop right there, Sparrow!" James' hand wave was almost frantic. "One lunacy at a time is all I can handle! Just tell me about this unicorn."

"As you wish!" Jack sat on the bed, crossing his legs in a satisfied manner. Norrington leaned back against the window frame.

"It took place during the nineteen eighties, when I was attending to a spot of business in Freiburg. That's in southwest Germany- also locale of the legendary Black Forest. Being in the near vicinity, with some spare time on me hands, I thought I'd give it a gander. So I went out early one morn ta hike one of the public trails. I stepped off it ta answer a call of nature. Having finished with that, I strayed a bit further jus' ta discover if the scenery away from the path looked any different..."

"Also to extraneously flout the park rules. I know you, Sparrow."

"It's not like this was apt ta do any harm," Jack shrugged. "'Twas then that I happened to notice somethin' unexpectedly pale, on the further side of a low-growth thicket. I worked my way around ta get a proper look an'... well, there she was. No mistakin' the species ID with that head embellishment!"

"This was a female?"

"Aye. A very old mare, lookin' like a marble sculpture settled into a moss bed. The poor beast conveyed to me, she was in her final hours of life an' preferred ta spend 'em undisturbed..."

"This animal talked to you."

"Not in the conventional way. Unicorns have at least human-level intelligence an' understanding of language but lack the vocal apparatus ta form spoken words. So when they're inclined ta communicate with us they do it mind-to-mind. Rather startling on first experience, though easy to get accustomed to."

This was obviously going to take a while. James joined Sparrow on the edge of the bed as Jack continued.

"As I've previously related, I acquired a certain regard fer all things equine during my gaucho years. So, bein' sympathetic to the critter's situation, I took measures ta acquiesce to her request..."

x

Jack picked his way between the remembered pine trunks, back to the brushy thicket's edge. Though he half expected the phantasmic creature to be gone, he soon spotted that distant whiteness, which once again guided him to the mossy patch and it's gracefully reclining occupant. As before, the full sight of her stole his breath.

The radiant form resembled a slender pony more than anything else, though he'd never mistake one for the other. The head was smaller and more tapered, the neck slim as a deer's, and the delicate mother-of-pearl hooves were cloven. Her tail was unlike any other he'd seen; the higher part was close-haired while the lower sprouted long curling tendrils, silken-white as milkweed down. Whoever'd sketched the designs for the Unicorn Tapestries got it pretty near right- that artist must've actually seen one of these beasties. But no weaving could've hoped to do justice to the horn; an elegant fluted spiral, long as his arm, glowing vaguely against the forest-green moss.

The depthless eyes- vivid blue as those of a siamese cat, but far wiser than any feline's- were already fixed on him. Jack halted a few feet away, addressing the animal courteously.

"'Tis done, lass. I borrowed a couple 'Geschlossen Für Reparatur' signs from the park shed an' placed 'em at either end of the trail, so nobody else'll be happenin' this way today. 'Also fetched you a bit of water."

He removed his brimmed walking hat, knelt to place it within her reach and emptied one of his canteens into it. The delicate muzzle dipped and drank, not in the manner of a horse so much as a well-bred lady sipping a glass of wine. When the hat was empty the creature politely nosed it back towards Sparrow. That queenly gaze- ancient, though not truly aged- met his again.

_/ Will you remain with me now? /_

Jack had already gotten used to that crystal-chime voice speaking directly inside his brain. The words were a request, not a plea; begging was diametrically opposed to this creature's nature. Having made her wish known, she would simply accept his answer either way.

The ex-pirate considered. He did have plans... but nothing that couldn't wait. Spending time in the presence a unicorn wasn't an experience to be had every day, or every lifetime. Furthermore, he felt a certain empathy with this being- he could see she'd lived a very long while. The equine body, though mesmerizingly beautiful, displayed classic signs of age; the ribs and pelvic bones protruded more than was ideal, the coat and wavy mane lacked a certain luster, the head was frankly drooping. Thankfully, the beast didn't seem to be in pain or discomfort. She was just fatally tired... dying simply because she'd had her fill of living.

Which, given enough time, might also possibly happen to him someday. If it ever did, he also might be glad for a bit of friendly companionship. So Sparrow arranged his jacket at the base of a birch truck a meter from the animal's shoulder, and sat there. "How's this?"

_/ That will be quite acceptable. /_

The unicorn let her head sink into the moss, emitting a peaceful sigh. Like a woman easing into bed at the close of a long day. Jack extended a tentative hand towards the smooth neck; she negated the offer with a slight head movement. The animal preferred not to be touched, she just wanted to have someone nearby.

Sparrow retracted his hand and settled back against the smooth bark, crossing arms over his knees to wait. This might be a melancholy vigil, but it shouldn't be a tedious one. He could let his eyes wander over that sculpted form for hours. So lovely, even it's final decline.

A blackbird sang overhead- to Jack's ear, more mournfully than usual. Even the nearer plants seemed to be bending forward a bit, as though with sad expectancy...

_/ Would you perform one more courtesy for me? /_

Sparrow started to alertness. Reflexively he checked the angle of the tree-filtered sunbeams- close to noon! Did time move at a different pace in the vicinity of unicorns?

"I might, lass. Depends on what's wanted."

_/ At the moment of my passing, my horn shall detach itself and fall- it can not remain affixed to a dead carcass. I would request that you remove it from this site. /_

Jack understood at once. "So's anyone findin' your bones'll think it's just the remains of an ordinary ungulate. Aye, luv; I'll do that fer you." He was already calculating how much he could get for such an item on the black market. He'd have to pass it off as a mere narwhal tusk, but those commanded a hefty price from collectors. Her horn certainly bore similarity to... in fact, looked exactly like...

_/ That is no coincidence. /_

"Eh?"

_/ It is by our doing, via a process comparable to your 'genetic engineering', that narwhals have identical tusks. We did this long ago, so that any human gifted with a unicorn horn would have a ready explanation for it. /_ The mental voice conveyed amusement. _/ Did you never consider it improbable for a whale to have such an appendage? /_

"I never gave that matter much thought, lass. 'Tis not like narwhals are the oddest-looking things in the sea. Did you ever see a vampire squid? Or a leafy sea dragon, or cuttlefish in courtship mode?"

The unicorn's laugh tickled his cortex like tiny feathers. _/ That's why our strategy worked. /_

"Seems it did. So, unicorns constitute yet another society of beings strivin' ta keep theer existence secret. Even Hamlet never suspected how many of those inhabit heaven and earth," Jack mused. "I hope you've no objections to my makin' a bit of shine from my contribution to this effort?"

The pale body stirred, the sapphire orbs meeting his squarely. _/ I have already ceded possession of my horn to you. You may dispose of it however you wish. But know this: if you exchange it for money, you will squander it's most valuable potential. That will be achieved only if you give it, free of charge, to the right person. /_

Jack's mustache twitched. Giving things away- particularly items with a high resell value- was rarely his first impulse. But he was curious about this 'valuable potential'. "An' who might the appropriate recipient be?"

_/ A young girl just coming into her womanhood. /_

That sounded familiar. "So it's true that yer kind has special liking fer maidenly types."

The unicorn laughed again, to Sparrow's enjoyment._ / Yes. That part of the legend is accurate. /_

"Fer any particular reason?"

_/ It has to do with mutually-reinforcing life-energies. You can perceive a shadow of it in the affinity so many young women have for horses. /_

"Aye, I've noted such."

_/ It is through the fluting of our horns that the beneficial energies are gathered, and through which they can rebound. None more so than a horn from such as I, who has lived a full span of years and died peacefully. A maiden in possession of it shall incur one of several blessings, depending on her nature. If she has any infirmity, physical or mental, she shall be healed of it, and acquire ability to aid those similarly afflicted. /_

Jack spared a regretful thought for his poor Dikeledi, now far beyond the reach of any such succor. "What if she's a healthy lass?"

_/ If she is family oriented, she will attract a worthy husband- a good provider who shall never stray or abuse her- and all her children shall be born sound and strong. If she has an adventurous spirit, she will arrive safely from every journey- even her worst mishaps shall leave no serious scars on her flesh or mind. If she is business-minded, her judgment will be sharpened so she will never make a truly bad investment, nor be fooled by even the cleverest swindler. But these benefits will be bestowed only if you present the horn freely, out of regard for the girl's welfare. /_ This last included a slight rebuke, as though the beast could see the dollar signs dancing in Jack's head.

Sparrow frowned as said dollar signs popped. "An' what's the profit fer me?"

_/ The gratification of knowing you have bestowed a matchless gift on a youngster you care about. /_

"I was afraid of that. Thing is, luv, my lifestyle is such that I rarely have occasion ta make the acquaintanceship of chits in that age bracket, an' even less occasion ta hang around long enough ta develop much attachment to 'em." He hesitated before making an admission he'd almost never made before. "Furthermore, I'm not able to sire any of me own."

The azure gaze was unperturbed._ / You still have very many years ahead of you. Your life situation could change, in ways you cannot now imagine. It may take decades, or centuries, but you will find the right maiden. When you do you will have no doubts about it. /_

Sparrow just pursed his lips. It had been his experience that eldritch beings were best not argued with.

The animal sighed again, sagging deeper into the moss. _/ There is no cause to hurry- my horn's potential will not diminish over the years. Knowing it shall someday be fulfilled will lighten my heart, as you would say, through these last few hours. /_

The ex-pirate turned his face, least his annoyance show. Why did so many people- even bloody animals, now- have to appeal to his honest streak in the least-opportune situations?

Schooling his expression, Jack faced the creature again. "Lass, I can't swear ta do as you wish, for it may happen I'll be in dire need of financial resources prior to locatin' this theoretical chit. But I will give it a try."

_/ That is all I can ask. /_ The vivid eyes slowly closed- it seemed this exchange had drained the last of her energy. _/ Please stay by me, now. For just a little while longer. /_

"I will definitely do that fer you, beastie."

So Jack remained by the old unicorn's side as the afternoon hours passed. She did not speak again, nor make any further movement, other than the slight rise and fall of her ribs.

Sparrow nibbled on trail mix, sipped from his smaller canteen, and pondered this extraordinary claim. If unicorn horns really possessed such powers, he wondered whether Elizabeth Swann might have been presented with one during her pubescent years. He'd never heard her mention such a thing... but of course he'd never thought to ask. Such a gift would explain how the wench'd gotten past so many hazardous shoals and reefs (himself not the least formidable) with just a few scrapes to her hull. She'd even managed to keep her maidenly 'treasure' intact, to present to the whelp on their wedding night. Nothing much short of supernatural intervention could account for that!

In fact, the longer he thought on it, the more probable this explanation seemed. Obviously if he did give this charmed object away he'd have to be inordinately careful choosing a recipient.

As afternoon lapsed into dusk the pristine form seeming to fade, like a gradually dimming light. It was half an hour 'til sunset when the unicorn emitted a last easy exhalation and became completely still. The seashell spire's inner glow went off as it toppled, soft as a dropped flower. It rolled a couple meters away, coming to rest against a fern clump.

The blackbird sang a few more poignant notes, then flapped off into the trees. Jack pressed his hat to his chest, murmuring a few long-ago words his Mum had taught him.

Though the animal hadn't requested any burial, Sparrow didn't feel right leaving that beautiful form to the flies. He arose- surprisingly unstiff- and set about covering her with leaves and other clean debris from the forest floor. He completed the job just as the sun touched the half-hidden horizon.

Only then did he retrieve the horn, examining it closely in the last light of day. It felt warm as ivory, smooth as the inner spiral of a volute shell... somehow conveying the impression of being asleep rather than lifeless. Possibly the late owner's words were coloring his perception- but maybe not. Sparrow resolved then and there: whether for love or money, he'd not part with this object casually.

Jack carefully wrapped his jacket around the delicate-looking spire, tucking the bundle close against his side. He gave the mound a last respectful bow, then started making his way around the thicket, never glancing back- not wanting to see the absence of that glowing beacon. Soon he reached the pines, and from there made his way to the trail, hurrying through the darkening forest to the parking lot...

x

"... an' as you can see, I did retain possession. The late beastie's already been vindicated on one point: theer's no doubt I've found the right maiden. Lysander Anne Norrington's the one chit I'd most like ta see comin' through every storm with her sails unshredded."

"That would be the benefit, since she undoubtedly qualifies as the adventurous type." Norrington's tone and expression were thoughtful. "Well, Jack, whether it works or not I appreciate your making this gesture on behalf of my daughter. It's rather... Don't take this the wrong way, but it seems uncharacteristically altruistic of you to refrain from selling a valuable object so someone else can possibly reap the rewards."

"I'm mildly astounded myself. 'Guess I'm overridingly curious ta discover whether it'll do what the critter said."

James grinned. "You'll soon get a chance to find out. I'll be pleased for you to give this to Lysee at the party tomorrow. But with one stipulation: please don't inform her about it's alleged protective properties. At least not anytime soon. She might be tempted to test the limits and we've both read enough Shakespeare know what can come of that."

"Aye. 'MacDuff was from his mother's womb/ Untimely ripp'd.' I won't breath a word." Sparrow's dead-somber tone reminded Norrington that, whatever his other shortcomings, the ex-pirate was not prone to taking chances with Lysander's welfare. "How about her Mum?"

"Maybe you should let me choose the time and place to inform Meredith. Though, in her case I doubt it'll make any difference."

"Of course not. No umbrella's going to discourage a hen from gathering her chicks beneath her when the rain begins."

"True. Just don't put it that way around Mare. She doesn't mind being compared with a horse- a chicken's another matter." James stood and stretched a bit. "Thank you for this consultation. And now, I do have a few other things to do today."

Norrington gave the horn a last bemused glance as he left the room. Jack moved to his bedroom window, where he bestowed a wry grin on the view of land and sea.

"Better brace yerself, luv. 'Could be theer's another Lizzie on her way!"

xxx

**FINIS**

xxx

_'Geschlossen Für Reparatur' - 'Closed For Repair'_

_x  
_

_Commander McBragg is a 1960s cartoon character; a short, bald, self-aggrandizing old windbag, prone to relating obviously impossible stories about his daring international exploits._

_"He can do anything, / In his world he's a king! / Or so says the brag of McBragg!"_

_As mentioned, McBragg was probably inspired by the real-life German soldier and adventurer Freiherr Hieronymous von Münchhausen, aka Baron Munchausen (1720 - 1797), who possessed a notable talent for tall tales. An embellished collection of his yarns, 'The Surprising Adventures of Baron Munchhausen', was first published in English in 1785. Terry Gilliam adapted this into the 1988 film, 'The Adventures of Baron Munchausen', starring John Neville._

_x  
_

_"MacDuff was from his mother's womb/ Untimely ripp'd" is from Shakespeare's tragedy **Macbeth**. Spoilers ahead:_

_The titular character had been assured by three evil witches that "None of woman born shall harm Macbeth", prompting the ambitious nobleman to pursue a murderous rise to the kingship of Scotland. But this course runs aground when he encounters the wronged and vengeful MacDuff, who reveals he was born via a cesarian-section. Macbeth angrily declares, "Be these juggling fiends no more believed, / That palter with us in a double sense; / That keep the word of promise to our ear / And break it to our hope!"_

_Shortly afterwards, MacDuff lops his head off._

_Beware of those supernatural loopholes!_


	4. Chapter 4

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney_

xxx

Norrington nodded with satisfaction as he studied the image in the living room mirror. Gold-edged tricorn, carefully centered atop his curled wig. Dark blue coat hanging neatly over white breeches. Buckled shoes polished to a regulation gleam. Everything about him looked properly Commodorial.

He smoothed down the coat's decorated edges, enjoying the fabric's familiar texture. Meredith had recently sewn this for him, to accompany the hat Sparrow had given him last April. She wasn't a professional costume maker, so the garment wasn't exactly like what he'd worn in his natural time, But it would be more than adequate for this night's excursion.

A droll circumstance caught his eye. This mirror, being directly opposite the big William Turner painting, was reflecting that stylized oceanscape in the background. With just a little squinting, one could get the impression James was actually out at sea.

Norrington stepped to the other side of the room, to view that painting up close. Though it'd taken a while for him to appreciate Turner's blurred use of color, he had come to understand why Elizabeth and William's grandson was considered a great artist. It was most fortuitous Jack had heeded his recommendation to give this masterwork a wall to itself, and relocated the painting to his Capri property.

That was a scant six months before their mutual kidnapping... or their 'Hebrides Adventure', as Sparrow always referred to it. Obviously his way of de-emphasizing the misery of that interval- the unrelieved ennui of lengthy confinement in cold, underlit cells, interspersed with mortifying physical exams and tormenting interrogations. To say nothing of the subtle but constant humiliation of captivity... of being entirely at another's disposal.

James wondered how many other dismal experiences Jack may have disguised under the label 'adventure'. Ah, well- he didn't begrudge any man his coping mechanisms.

His musings were interrupted as he detected a stealthy intrusion. Somebody had paused just outside the living room entrance- he could see the toe of a bucket boot and corner of a leather tricorn protruding just past the door jamb.

Shifting into a defensive stance, Norrington unhooked the silver-painted sword from his belt. The wide, curved configuration identified it as a scimitar; a blatant mismatch to his Royal Navy uniform. But a historically-accurate cutlass blade was too narrow to fashion from papier-mâché.

"Advanced and be recognized, pirate!" he ordered sternly.

"Brace yerself, James. 'Tis been a while now since I've put in this kind of effort."

"Considering some of the things I've witnessed, Sparrow, it's most improbable that anything you could show me would... oh, my."

Into the room sauntered a spectacle of sartorial splendor not seen in centuries. The only human who'd viewed it before spent a long moment in rapt contemplation.

All the details seemed to be in place. Sturdy dark thews and weskit, pale billow-sleeved shirt. Woven red-and-white striped sash, belts with oversize buckles, absurd beaded chin braids. Full array of hair ornaments, including the shinbone needle. Even the rakish streaks of kohl, underscoring merry coffee-brown eyes.

Jack's teeth and jeweled fingers flashed gleefully. "Rather similar to yer first sight of me, eh?"

James cleared his throat. "Virtually identical, Jack. Other than the somewhat shorter dredlocks, and obviously-newer headscarf. And the sword, of course."

The blade hanging from Sparrow's belt was a match to James'. Lysee had crafted papier-mâché scimitars for every family member, since they wouldn't be allowed to carry real swords through the streets of Capri. This neighborhood's conglomerate of American families had successfully introduced the Halloween ritual of trick-or-treating, thanks to the other residents' willingness to participate. Bless the Italian penchant for seizing every opportunity to join in the fun!

James deliberately moved well away from the Turner, before raising his scimitar to the On Guard position. "Speaking of our first meeting: shall we give our new weaponry a tryout, Captain Sparrow?"

Jack unhooked his own fearsome blade, even as he admitted, "'Tis First Mate Sparrow. Fer this evening only, I've agreed to relinquish the Captaincy ta someone else."

Norrington didn't need to ask whom. There was only one person alive that Jack would make such a concession to.

Right on cue, quick footsteps pounded through the house and Lysander darted in, as she was wont to. The chit slid to a halt between Jack and his accoster, giving James his first view of her completed costume. Bright green loose-sleeved v-neck blouse. Shiny crimson breeches, stuffed into tight black boots and cinched with a golden sash. Long red braids, flapping beneath a black felt hat sporting a skull-and-crossbones.

Lysee pointed her own homemade scimitar straight at Dad. "Avast, navyman- you don't wanna be threatening my First Mate! I'm Red Mane Lysander, Captain of the _Ebony Mustang_- the terror of the Mediterranean!"

Norrington nipped his tongue, reminding himself of his promise. For the duration of this holiday, he'd make no remarks contrasting actual pirates with the cinematic version. Indulging fantasies was permissible on Halloween.

"Oh, are you!" James swept his own flashing blade to cover both his adversaries. "Then, as an officer of the Royal Navy, I feel obliged to demand you vile miscreants yield yourselves in the name of the King!"

"Theer's a Queen in charge just now," Sparrow reminded.

"In the name of the Crown, then! You pair of scurvy rogues...!"

He froze at the sudden press of corrugated cardboard against the side of his neck. Meredith must have circled outside of the house and reentered through the balcony, to sneak up behind him.

"Belay that, Naval toff! Drop yer weapon- onto the couch, if you please, since it be rather fragile."

James complied, turning slowly to confront his newest foe. Mare was most certainly not attired in the high white wig and green-velvet gown she'd modeled a couple days ago. Rather, she wore the same disreputable- albeit colorful- ensemble as Lysee, though tailored to her more grownup proportions, with a glittering emerald headscarf encircling her fluffed copper tresses.

Norrington's expression twisted into one of abject disappointment. "A traitor in my own ranks!"

"Indeed! I be the dread pirate Cinnabar Sally, of whom you've no doubt heard!" Mare smiled wickedly at her co-conspirators. "This be a most comely prisoner, maties- I've a mind to keep him all to myself!"

Jack pouted. "Only if you provide us with something of comparable value."

"Aye, that do be in accordance with the Articles. How 'bout if I gift all my collected Snickers to you..." she pointed at Sparrow, then Lysee, "... and to you, all the Butterfingers. What say you to that?"

"Done!" The girl's emphasizing jump sent her braids flying.

Sparrow seemed equally agreeable. "We have an accord, Cinnabar Sally!"

But as the trio of buccaneers shook hands, their captive seized the opportunity to spin away, snatching his fallen weapon back to the fore.

"You scabrous scalawags have no idea who you're dealing with! I am Commodore James Norrington, the most efficacious pirate-hunter on the Seven Seas, and I'll not be bartered for Butterfingers!"

"Arrrrr!" snarled the three scalawags, advancing with menacing scimitars. But the imminent clash of cardboard was averted by a sound from the next room: Royal's sharp bark, closely followed by the door chime.

"That's Cadera!" Captain Red Mane sped off to the entrance hall. Seconds later a clamor of girlish outcries began, each exclaiming over other's costume.

Mare slung her blade over her shoulder, signaling truce. She propped her other hand against a red-clad hip, as she studied the men.

"So this is how you two used to dress. I'm impressed!"

Sparrow struck his most charming roguish poise. "I'd expect nothing less, luv."

Mare smirked back, but her stare lingered longest on James, now straightened into the full dignity of his office. "You look most dashing, Commodore Norrington."

"And your own attire is certainly not without allure, Cinnabar Sally. Though I did admire that ballroom ensemble you showed me earlier."

"Which is exactly why I decided not to wear it for trick-or-treating; it's too nice to risk amongst all those hedge twigs and unwrapped chocolate bars." She stepped closer, coquettishly flexing one booted leg behind her as she hooked the scimitar around James' neck. "How 'bout I put it on for you after we get home? You can give me a waltz on the balcony."

"A most excellent proposal," the smiling Commodore agreed.

Jack was making faces, but had no chance to comment before Lysee hurried back in, accompanied by her plumpish friend Cadera and the tail-wagging Royal. The former, clutching a starred wand, was decked in a sparkly pink-net dress, iridescent fabric wings, and a rhinestone tiara pinned into black hair. Her snapping dark eyes went completely round as she took in Mare and Jack.

"You guys look so cool!"

Jack made a courtly bow. Mare replied, "You are most kind, Fairy Princess Cadera."

"Tell my Dad he looks cool, too," instructed Lysee.

"You look cool, too, Mr. Norrington."

"Thank you, Cadera." It seemed probable the whole evening was going to go like that, but James was resolved to bear it stoically.

Cadera's notably tall father entered behind the girls. His dark hair was slicked back, face powder-white with painted-on fangs, and he wore a high-collared cape over an ambassadorial suit. Mr. Damato dramatically swept the cape forward, addressing the residents with a manufactured Hungarian accent. "Good eve-in-ing, my friends! Please extend my compliments to your tailor- you look like proper pirates!"

The friends cut eyes. Mare's mouth quivered, holding back a laugh. Sparrow found it necessary to busy himself fetching Lysee's treat bag.

"Good evening to you, Galtem. You look like an authentic vampire," James smoothly fibbed.

Jack handed Lysander her equipment; a doubled-handled shopping bag with SWAG painted on the sides (Cadera had a pink one with silver-sparkle butterflies.) Immediately after taking it, Captain Red Mane started hacking the air with her sword. "Let's go now! We gotta get to the Kefalos Villa before Nikki's mom runs out of cannolis!"

"Fer sure, me hearties- we don't want to miss that bootie!" Mare agreed.

Sparrow raised a hand. "Jus' one thing more before we weigh anchor. Our ship's mascot deserves a costume too!" He reached into a desk drawer, withdrawing a large metal ring strung with old-fashioned door keys which he deftly hung from Royal's collar. Norrington grinned- after a moment's thought, so did Mare.

"What is that for?" inquired the ersatz vampire.

"So's he can provide us with a means of escape, should any rotter see fit ta lock us up!" explained Sparrow. Royal gave another enthusiastic bark.

Amidst a chorus of anticipatory "Arrrrr!"s, Jack and Mare herded the girls to the exit. Cadera, deciding a sword was more fun than a wand, began swinging her prop in a likewise manner.

"A pirate fairy princess- that's a new one," Galtem Damato commented as he took his place behind them.

Norrington clipped Royal's leash on before following the group outside. Upon reaching their Villa gate, James threw the switch to activate the automated dispenser- a voice-triggered gadget that ejected candybars through the mouth of an oversized plastic pumpkin. Though he knew plenty of kids would exploit the chance to collect more than one treat, Norrington was willing to foot the added expense- nobody in his family wanted to stay home to give them out.

Squealing with excitement, Lysee and Cadera hurried up the sidewalk with Jack close at their heels. As Mare and Galtem stepped to catch up, James muttered to the dog, "I expect this to be a most interesting evening- I just hope I don't end up looking totally ridiculous."

Royal panted in a sympathetic way... but his jingling key ring sounded suspiciously similar to Sparrow's ornamented mane.

xxx

**TBC...**


	5. Chapter 5

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney._

_This epilogue for the previous chapter was inspired by reports of certain incidents at real-life Disney World._

_xxx  
_

"Lord, what a night..."

"It wasn't that bad, James. Nobody got hurt, and Lysee and Cadera had a wonderful time anyway."

"I can see that. To judge from the quantity of candy wrappers scattered over this kitchen, they've ingested a month's worth of calories."

"All part of the tradition, dear. Now here's a treat for you: a freshly-poured double sherry."

"Blessings on you, fairest Meredith! Mmmm... Really, though, how often have you seen people behaving that way on a public street?"

"When I lived in Florida, I saw it every March."

"That's somewhat more excusable. Spring Break's generally recognized as a college-age bacchanalia, but Halloween is supposed to be child-friendly! Individuals who feel compelled to commemorate it with overconsumption of alcohol should remain indoors."

"News flash, Mr. Norrington: inebriation and bad judgment tend to go together. In marginal defense of those silly young women, Jack is uncommonly alluring in that pirate attire."

"A poor excuse for them to start yanking off their shirts."

"Yes, that was definitely over the top. So to speak."

"And those young men were even worse! The appropriate response would've been to take their girlfriends elsewhere, not to attack Sparrow!"

"Jealously brings out the neanderthal in a lot of guys, especially when they're soused. Jack can be grateful you were there, leaping gallantly to his defense."

"He ought to be. He escaped with just a few lipstick smears on his costume, whence mine..."

"Oh, don't fret about those little rips, James. It'll only take few minutes' sewing to make your coat as good as new."

"I doubt the same can be said for Lysee's creation."

"That was a shame. Though, when I told her your sword died a heroic death in battle, her biggest regret was that she didn't get to witness it."

"I should hope not- I don't want her getting any impression that's how teenage girls are supposed to behave! Remind me to commend Galtem for herding the children and dogs away before the exhibitions began."

"Certainly. But you know, I'm rather glad I got to see that confrontation."

"Why so?"

"It's always a thrill to watch my valiant Navyman engaged in righteous combat. Even armed with cardboard."

"Oh? As thrilling as Sparrow in his buccaneer regalia?"

"More!"

"Perhaps even... alluring?"

"Uh-huh. Lean just a bit closer, would you...?"

"..."

"..."

"Mmmph... Mare... about our earlier plan, for you to change into that ball gown to waltz on the balcony..."

"... you want to do that now?"

"I wondered, would you mind terribly if we postponed that 'til tomorrow night?"

"No, my most alluring Commodore. I wouldn't mind in the slightest!"

xxx

**FINIS**


	6. Chapter 6

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney_

xxx

_- Four Weeks From The Day -_

"Jack? Did you have a minute?"

"Just about that, cousin."

"I had a favor to ask. Relevant to the upcoming holiday."

"Why James, how thoughtful of you to remember!"

"This is pertaining to a gift for somebody else."

"I suppose you do need to give some small attention ta that."

"I wondered if, with your particular talent for acquiring things of a 'shiny' nature, you knew of any legal channel through which I might purchase a cut emerald at less than the market price. I repeat: _legal_."

"You seem inordinately suspicious, James."

"Sorry, but... well, I've heard certain rumors."

"Have you?"

"To the effect that this Villa belongs to someone with connections to the Cosa Nostra."

"Oh, that. Pay it no mind, mate. I spread that yarn myself jus' ta reduce the likelihood of this place bein' burglarized in my absence."

"Hmmm."

"It's worked so far, eh?"

"I need you to be honest with me, Jack: do you, in fact, have any kind of current connection with...?"

"None, I swear on my soul. I admit ta having had some past dealings with 'em, but was never positioned ta access their inner circle. Not 'famiglia' enough. Close-minded sods."

"I see."

"Y'know, James, whatever else can be said about the pirates of our time, at least we were never much concerned about a prospective member's ethnicity."

"I concede that you were equal-opportunity brigands."

"So the only lawbreaking I get up to these days is during Missions. Theer's rare satisfaction ta be had from tweaking authoritative noses across the centuries!"

"I'd assumed that's why Murphy gives you assignments that involve jail-breaking and such. However, with regards to the procurement of this emerald..."

"I am perfectly capable of doing so by lawful means. Did you want it set or loose?"

"Set. My first choice would be a pendant."

"I think an earring'd suit you better, mate."

: silence :

"Verra well, a pendant it is. Green does become yer Fair Mare, as demonstrated by that tight-in-all-the-right places tank suit a' hers."

: Stony Silence :

"Mr. Norrington, if yer going to be buyin' her swimwear at Capri designer shops- parrot-green spandex with silver-thread backing, no less- you'd better be braced fer such observations."

"We don't intend to shop there regularly. Mare saw that suit in a display window and fell in love. And I... to be frank, I was most curious to see how it would look on her. But that was a one-time indulgence."

"Or twice, since yer now in the market fer a necklace to match it."

"This will be our tenth Christmas since we wed; I think that merits special commemoration. And Mare does like emeralds. She's said they're... ah..."

"Let me guess: she's said they're agreeably reminiscent of your own striking orbs?"

"Sparrow, please. One demi-mindreader in the household is quite enough."

"It hardly requires extrasensory ability ta notice yer eye-color, mate."

"Steering back to the subject: out of consideration for Mare, if not for myself, it would be most appreciated if you could..."

"Theer's no need ta beg, James. Of course I'll do me best ta find you a pretty green rock. 'Soon ez I locate something I'll let you know."

"Thank you. Just do keep my caveat in mind."

"Trust me, cousin."

"I'm trying. But it's an uphill process."

_- Three Weeks From The Day -_

"Welcome home, you rascal. From your expression, I deduce things went well in Geneva."

"Aye, the issue was resolved ta everybody's mutual satisfaction. An' I took care of another matter whilst in the neighborhood; solved yer affordable-gemstone difficulty."

"Did you?"

"I believe so! Look what I fetched from my vault."

"That was most considerate of you, Jack. It's a beautiful piece of malachite."

"I weren't referrin' to the box, lad! Take a gander at the contents."

:click:

"...!"

"Yer at yer most charmin' when yer speechless, cousin."

"What, are these?"

"Matched four-carat pear-cut emeralds, surrounded by sixteen one-karat white diamonds in 18-karat gold settings. Circa 1958. See how it pays ta watch 'Antiques Road Show'?"

"Jack, these are magnificent! There's only one problem..."

"Your good lady doesn't really care fer largish earrings- finds the weight on her lobes too distracting. Not ta worry! Jus' take 'em to yer local jeweler an' fer a nominal fee they'll exchange the clips fer bales so you'll have a pair of pendants! Eminently practical, seein' how you've got two fair lasses on yer gift list."

"True. Though I'm not sure Lysee is ready for fine jewelry."

"She will be. 'Twill make a most admirable Sweet Sixteen present. Jus' stow the duplicate somewhere until then... or better yet, have Mare stow it. No wench ever lost track of such a bauble!"

"That seems a meritorious suggestion. Very well; I'll take them. Thank you! How much do I owe?"

"Yer accumulated Corridor-use points shall do nicely. I fancy making an excursion to the Spanish Main next week. I'm overdue ta pay a visit to an old friend."

"What old...? Oh. I'll be more than happy to make that exchange, Jack. Give my best regards to the _Black Pearl_."

"I shall do so. Perhaps I'll complete my own holiday shopping while I'm there- Martinique's a fine locale ta acquire mahogany carvings. Would you an' the Missis like something of that genre?"

"Very probably so. Just no erotic sculptures."

"James! Do you really think I'd contemplate givin' you such a thing?"

"If you thought it would irritate me, yes you would."

"You know me well, ol' Commodore."

"All too well."

"But you love me anyway."

: eyeroll :

"I'll take that as an affirmative."

"Can we discuss this later? I really ought to get to the jeweler's..."

xxx

**TBC...**


	7. Chapter 7

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney_

_xxx_

"Sparrow, this is a bizarre idea even for you!"

"'Bizarre' is a matter of perspective, mate. I'll admit it hain't the most traditional thing ta include on a Christmas tree, but under the particular current circumstances it actually qualifies as appropriate."

"'Appropriate' is also a matter of perspective."

"Lysee will approve."

"Indeed- she'll probably consider it the coolest ornament around! And I suppose I can tolerate such a thing. Mare, on the other hand..."

"Aye. Theer's the very considerable rub."

"Particularly if she were to happen upon the... object, unexpectedly."

"We're in accord! So it will make much better sense fer you to convince her before we acquire the tree."

"'You'? Sparrow, what are you getting at?"

"I was verra much hoping ta have yer assistance persuading her, cousin. Consider it a cost-free Christmas present ta me."

"You're asking a lot."

"Please, please, please?"

"Will you stop looking at me that way?"

: kicked-puppydog whimper :

"You are utterly without shame! Very well- I'll try!"

"Thank ye, thank ye!"

"But let me wait until after dinner. That's the best time to catch her in a generous mood. Or an insane one."

_- Some While After Dinner -_

"So, how'd it go?"

"You owe me big, Jack. I had to fall back on requesting a Special Favor."

"She's given consent?"

"Yes."

"May a thousand blessings descend upon your brow, most noble Commodore!"

"I'll need them. She informs me this exhausts my quota of Favors for the year."

"I knew you could charm the stubborn Fair Mare, if anybody could!"

"There is one stipulation. You'll have to hang it well back, behind the branches."

"Not at the top?"

"To that proposal, Lady Meredith has issued an absolute and incontrovertible No."

"It's jus' so Mum can have a view of the proceedings. 'Twill gladden her so, ta see I have a family ta share the holidays with me!"

"That argument sufficed for allowing the inclusion of a shrunken head on the tree, but not for displacing the star. I strongly advise you to be a smart pirate and quit while you're ahead."

"Was that a deliberate pun?"

: Very Grumpy Cough :

"No, I suppose not. I'm most grateful fer your assistance, James! Would you fancy going out now, so I can buy you a compensatory drink?"

"I do seem to be in the mood for a sherry. Just don't breath a word about why you're treating me. They'll never let us back in!"

"Aye- they'll be after our heads."

"Stop It!"

"I'll make it two drinks."

xxx

**TBC...**


	8. Chapter 8

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney_

xxx

Though he'd bestowed a friendly smile, Jack had been unusually subdued when James met him at Heathrow Airport. Since they'd both gotten into the cab he'd said nothing at all. He just stared out the window, unseeing, as the cold December streets went by.

It was what Norrington had expected. His friend was always like this after returning from his Caribbean diving excursions. James had never asked to accompany Jack on these trips- that would be like tagging along on a visit to an old lover. But he couldn't deny being intensely curious about them.

According to Jack, the _Black Pearl_ was in about the same condition as the day he'd scuttled her- allegedly because Calypso, in exchange for some unspecified annual tribute, was concealing the wreck from all other human eyes, and restraining the forces of natural decomposition. Touring his near-intact ship could, and did, forcefully awaken memories from Jack's original life. And not just the positive ones.

He'd not give up these dives for any treasure, he'd said, but they did exact a price. The transition back to his 21st century existence always took a while, and was clearly a melancholy process. Even Captain Sparrow- usually the epitome of Living In The Moment- had his share of regrets.

The jarring change of climate probably wasn't helping, Norrington suspected. Anyone might have their spirits dampened, who'd just been transplanted from the sun-drenched Caribbean to London in it's present state. This day was heavily overcast, so the city was sandwiched between soggy gray sky and soggy gray slush. Everything would look far more festive after dark, when the Christmas lights came on, but that was some hours away.

James' mouth quirked. Sparrow would be feeling better well before then. Within minutes, in fact.

The cab veered onto a certain street, made a particular turn. Jack blinked as recognition yanked him back to the present. "Are we where I think we are, Mr. Norrington?"

"I think we are, Mr. Sparrow."

The cab pulled over and they both tumbled out, Jack hurriedly extracting his two bags from the boot as James paid the driver. The taxi drove off, leaving the two men on the sidewalk, staring up at a white and dark-brick facade now familiar to them both.

"We're stayin' here? All of us?"

"That's the plan. It may be a bit crowded for four, but other aspects should make up for that."

Jack was gaping like a delighted angler fish. "How the hell did you...? No, that's inappropriate phrasing. By what marvelous means did you manage to arrange this?"

James grinned as he hoisted Jack's duffle over his shoulder. "The primary responsibility lies with Meredith. She can tell you all about it when we go inside."

Sparrow eagerly snatched up his other bag. The two pushed past the black iron fence and ascended the townhouse steps. On the front door hung a dark green holly wreath, decorated with golden folded-paper birds. Origami was Lysee's current favorite craft.

Before they could knock, the door opened from within. Out poured Lysee and Mare, in matching red sweaters and welcoming smiles. "Helloooo Cousin Jack!" Lysander howled, as hugs were distributed all around.

Still exchanging greetings, the group retreated into the narrow front hall. Jack peered around as the door closed. "Where's Royal?"

Lysee's smile drooped. "We had to leave him at a kennel. The 'pet passport' didn't come in in time."

The ex-pirate frowned. "If someone had mentioned this ta me, I would've..."

James and Mare coughed simultaneously.

"... given him plenty of extra petting before I left." Sparrow's scowl deepened. Having to set a good example for the kid could be bloody bothersome at times.

"It's only for a week, it's the best kennel in Naples, and we left instructions for Royal to receive an entire sirloin steak on Christmas. Believe me, he shall derive considerable consolation from that," Norrington assured.

Fortunately, Lysander was too happy about their arrival to dwell on negatives. "Mom an' me finished the tree after Dad left- come see it!" she exclaimed, seizing Jack's hand.

"One moment, luv." Jack set his bag down at the base of the stairs, before allowing her to tug him down the hall to parlor. James and Mare followed close behind.

The balsam fir- more full than tall, as per family tradition- had been installed directly in front of the parlor's bay window, so the numerous glass panes multiplied it's green and red lights. Various ornaments hung from it's twigs. Jack had no trouble recognizing each person's contributions. Mare must be responsible for the red velvet bows, the beribboned candy canes, and the mirrored star at the top. The rainbow glass globes and tinsel garlands would be James' choice. And of course the multicolored menagerie of origami beasties were Lysee's.

Sparrow nodded appreciatively. "You lasses did a fine job. This must be the bonniest tree in London!"

Meredith pointed out one unadorned branch, halfway to the back. "As requested, we've left a space for you."

"So you may hang your head, pirate," James intoned with mock severity.

Jack awarded him a brief glower. "I'm going ta make mention of that, the next time you complain about any punning o' mine!"

Lysee jumped enthusiastically. "A real shrunken head- I bet nobody else has that on their tree!"

Sparrow rebuked her gently. "'This hain't fer purposes of novelty, chit. It's a homage ta them as can't be with us."

Lysander could get serious in a heartbeat. "I know. I won't play with it, or swing it around, or anything."

"And we will, very respectfully, put it away whenever we have company," Mare reminded, in her mild-but-intractable No Argument tone.

Figuring that was enough of that subject, Norrington pointed just below the star, where a rolled parchment cylinder hung from a golden ribbon. "Here's one Christmas present you can open early, Jack."

"Oh?" Curiosity getting the better of him, Sparrow took down the scroll, slid the ribbon off and unrolled it to read. His eyes went wide, then narrowed suspiciously. "A fine jest, mates. Fer a moment I thought it was authentic."

Mare smirked elfishly. "No jest, Mr. Sparrow. This is a special-print copy of the actual legal deed."

Jack looked to the commodore, almost accusingly. James nodded confirmation. "We wouldn't joke about something like this."

Lysander was jumping again. "You can come back to this house anytime you want 'cause it's yours!"

Few things were capable of rendering the former pirate speechless. And this was not one. "Now what's this about?" On the bottom line, his name was scrawled on a strip of yellow Stick-em. Peeling this back, he checked the signature beneath and shot Mare a quizzical look.

She explained matter-of-factly. "It's possible somebody may still be on the lookout for you and James in connection with this property. So it's safer for 'Meredith Anne Chaucer' to be the name on all the paperwork. I was the one who approached the Preservationist Society last summer to negotiate a purchase..."

Jack looked alarmed. "You don't mean you held a gun to someone's head?"

"I did not. I meant 'negotiate' in the literal sense. Luckily, the Society owns so many townhouses they were willing to sell one in return for a firm verbal promise to take proper care of it, plus enough fundage to let them purchase a certain endangered chapel."

"How much was that?" Sparrow wanted to know.

James answered. "No more than the accumulated rent for all those years you put us up in your Villa. I did those calculations myself. And yes," he raised a finger to head off Jack's protest, "we're aware you had no need to collect rent, since the escrow fund covers all the Villa's expenses. None the less, we consider this to be an appropriate reciprocation."

Mare moved closer to Jack, touching his shoulder affectionately. "You have my word, 'under pain of death', that my ownership is only a front. In every sense that matters, this townhouse is yours. To visit whenever you please, to furnish as you like, even move into if you choose. And I promise to transfer it to you officially whenever you ask."

"That won't be necessary. Not fer years yet. As you said, 'tis safer this way," Sparrow conceded.

James set a hand on Jack's other shoulder. "Welcome home, you rapscallion."

Sparrow returned the double embrace, dangerously close to swaying in his boots. "I hain't sure what to say..."

"'Thank you' would work," Lysander pointed out.

"I thank you muchly, James and Mare. And Lysee. Fer me, and fer me Mum."

The ex-pirate's smile was so radiant, he might have brought the Caribbean sun back with him.

x

A bathroom-use schedule was soon drawn up and posted on that facility's door. The sleeping arrangements required more discussion. It was soon decided James and Mare should take the largest bedroom, overlooking the back garden. Lysee claimed she didn't mind sleeping in the low-ceilinged garret, but Jack insisted she take the front bedroom, which offered an interesting view of the street. He'd had plentiful opportunity to enjoy that view as a boy; she should get a turn now. Sparrow would be warm enough in the garret, for the Preservationists had installed proper insulation up there. (They'd also cleared out the rodents, which Jack accepted as necessary for Lysee's sake. "Any able-bodied adult should be able ta tolerate the presence of a rat or two. But that's askin' a lot of a whelpess.")

So Jack carried his luggage up the two stairways, while Lysee returned to the kitchen to finish washing the lunch dishes. Eager to spend time with her entertaining cousin, she finished quickly and scrambled up to the garret.

The single long chamber was rather stark, with the original furrowed-wood floor and slanted peaked ceiling. The recently-purchased bed and bureau- unadorned and sturdy- were the only furnishings. But the room was clean, and adequately lit by a row of simple ceiling fixtures. Lysee spotted Jack at once, kneeling in the corner by the front window. He was working at something on the floor with the curled side of a claw hammer.

Before he could say a word, Lysee rushed over to join him. Now she could see Jack was prying up a nail, from the edge of a half-meter-long floorboard set flush against the wall. Five other dark, squarish nails were lined up on the window sill. "Why're you taking that off?"

Cousin Jack looked like he'd been caught swiping treats (as she knew from past experience), but answered nonchalantly. "I'm jus' checking to see whether the recent home improvements have affected a certain item." With a conspiratorial glance about, he asked, "Can you keep a secret, lass?"

Lysee bit her lip, recalling her mother's instructions on that subject. "Is it about somebody doing something bad?"

"Nowhere in the vicinity of it, chit. Jus' a matter I prefer ta keep ta meself 'cause some folk might think it smacks of heathenism, or such. But 'tis merely a gesture of faith. Nothing bad about that, eh?"

The girl considered for a moment. "I guess that's okay." She settled on the aged floor to watch, as Jack resumed extracting the nail.

"I got this idea from me own Mum. When me an' her were residing in that two-room flat near the river..."

"Can we go see that sometime?"

The ex-pirate emphatically shook his head. "It was torn down long years ago, an' good riddance! No whelp should haveta grow up in such a dismal underheated shack. Anyway..." Jack carefully set aside the little black spike, started on the next one, "... Mum had a habit of collecting dropped posies in the flower markets, which she'd tie in little bundles an' hang over our doorway. She said it signaled belief that her man- my Da- would walk back in someday. Right under that very sprig."

"Did he?"

"Yes. Maybe a tad late." Jack glanced away. "Anyhow, from that I got the notion ta leave my own 'gesture of faith' here, ensconced in a nook nobody else knew about." So saying, Jack yanked out the final nail, pushed the board aside, and reached beneath. "Here 'tis!"

He lifted out an object, not much larger than his own hand. It was a little toy boat, carved from a scrap of dark wood, with a single triangular sail fashioned from discolored canvas. "That's a sloop!" Lysee identified.

"Aye. But not just any sloop. This was a boyhood present from my Uncle Matt... Mum's half-brother Matsendra. He was the sailor who first sparked my interest in that profession, back when I was younger 'en you." Jack eyed the keepsake fondly. "'Twas one of several such ships he gave me. In addition ta this, I once owned a brig, a snow, a barque, a junque, and a frigate. All carved an' rigged in admirable detail. I couldn't of been prouder of that fleet if I'd been an Admiral commanding real ones!" His eyes gleamed in happy recollection. Just for a moment.

"Unfortunately, Mum had to barter the others for food when I was seven. We ran woefully short of fundage that year. I only retained this sloop 'cause it was too plain ta fetch any appreciable coin. 'Twas the only toy I had left, by the time Da finally came home. He brought the money he'd promised, so Mum and I were able ta relocate to this far superior abode, where we lived fer the next five years..."

"What about your Dad?"

"He went back to his ship. Paid us a visit once 'er twice annually. In those days that was considered an acceptable way of doing things." Lysee made a face as she tried to imagine it. "The money didn't help with everything; Mum had caught a bad illness fer which there was no effective treatment. But we did have sufficient food, warm clothes and fair-enough housing." Jack waved a hand to indicate the whole building. "So when the time came fer me to go to sea, I installed this sloop under a loose floorboard I knew of, to signify my intent to return someday..."

"Like throwing a coin into the Trevi Fountain?"

Jack and Lysee whirled to see Meredith's amused face, poking up through the garret hatchway.

Sparrow slammed a hand to his chest. "Mrs. Norrington! You were spying!"

"Not deliberately. Just seeking to establish whether you two were still in the house." Mare ascended the remaining stairs and crossed to their corner. She thoughtfully eyed the little ship in Jack's hand- unlike her daughter, Mare knew how old it might be. "That appears to be a very special toy."

"It is!" Lysee confirmed. But, remembering their pact, the girl dramatically clamped a hand over her own mouth. Mare glanced between the two conspirators, quickly deciding not to pry.

"I also wanted to ask what kind of cookies you'd like me to..."

"Snickerdoodles!" Lysander shrieked.

"I'd anticipated that preference. How about you, Jack?"

"I like those things you make with the walnuts."

"The nut crescents or the fudge bars?" The former pirate scratched his head in an exaggerated display of indecision. Mare regarded him sourly. "If you'd like me to make both kinds, just say so, Mr. Sparrow."

"I would like that, darlin'. If it hain't too much trouble?" Jack employed his best Innocent Child face.

"I will if I have time." Mare retraced her steps down the stairs, muttering something that Lysee overheard. Turning curious eyes on Jack, she asked, "What's 'Peter Pan complex' mean?"

"'Tis jus' a term by which persons who've obtained a certain level of maturity attempt to denigrate other persons whose degree of maturity they consider ta be below the opportune level," Jack rattled off.

The chit didn't waste much time pondering that. Her Dad had long since warned her, "Your cousin Jack's meanings are often 'as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff; you shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you have them they are not worth the search.'"

"Now that Mom knows about your boat, do we still haveta keep it secret?"

Sparrow thoughtfully rubbed his chin. "The urgency may be reduced. However, theer's no need ta broach that subject without cause. Savvy?"

"Savvy!" The girl was staring at the little sloop again, her fingers twitching. Jack extended it with a good-natured smile.

"You can hold it. Jus' be very kind!" Lysee took it carefully, running curious fingertips over the smooth hull. "If you hold it close to one eye an' shut the other, you can get the same view you'd have standing on the deck of a full-sized ship."

The child did so, grinning as she confirmed the illusion. She started rocking the model to simulate wave movement. "Batten down the hatches, maties- there be a squall abrewing!"

Jack grinned too. "I used ta do that all the time. 'Helped me picture the day I'd be giving orders aboard my own fine vessel."

"I want to be ship Captain too, when I grow up," Lysee announced.

"'Captain Lysander' does have a ring to it," Sparrow agreed. "But keep in mind; bein' Captain doesn't just mean ya get ta give the orders. It also entails weighty responsibilities fer the welfare of yer vessel an' yer crew."

"'With great power comes great responsibility,'" Lysee quoted.

"Aye, that hits near the mark. So you bloody well need to know what yer doin'! 'Tis vital to learn all that's learnable about seamanship- from experience ez well as study- before you can begin to consider a position of command. A crew'll accept yer leadership only so long as they believe yer able an' willin' ta look after theer interests."

Green eyes regarded his searchingly. "Did you have problems with that?"

Not for the first time, Jack wondered whether this whelpess had inherited her Mum's ability to discern more 'en what was said (frankly, he rather hoped she hadn't.) "Some. But that's a melancholy tale- this hain't the best season ta relate it."

Fortunately Lysee had definitely inherited- or been taught- her Mum's sense of when to drop a subject. She turned attention back to the little sloop. "What's the first ship you were Captain of?"

"The _Barnacle_. That boat weren't much bigger 'en this un, but we had some admirable adventures together!"

"Was the _Barnacle_ your fave?"

"No, that'd be my second ship. Originally named the _Wicked Wench_, later the _Black Pearl_. I rechristened her ta commemorate what I paid ta retrieve her from seemingly irretrievable circumstances." His gaze went misty, recalling images from two days ago. And from much further back. "Since then I've captained several other exemplary vessels. The _Providence_, the _Golden Harridan_, the _USS Hartford_, the _Jamaica Lioness_, the _Lady Buccaneer_- brave lasses all! But there'll never be another ta match my gallant _Pearl_." He smiled fondly. "If your luck holds, Lysander, someday you might captain a vessel that'll mean as much to you."

Lysee gnawed her lower lip, regarding the sloop gravely. "Maybe we should put it back now?"

Jack pulled the board aside, Lysee carefully returned the miniature boat to it's hidden berth. He'd hammered half the nails back in when the girl sprang up, sniffing like a hound on a hot trail.

"The snickerdoodles are done!" She dashed to the hatchway and disappeared below.

Sparrow smiled as he completed his carpentry work. When the last nail was driven home he bestowed a fond pat on the floorboard. "Learn from the past, but live in the present," he murmured.

Then he caught it. A most enticing buttery-cinnamon fragrance, wafting up the stairway. "An' speaking of presents...!"

Snatching up the hammer, he hastened to follow Lysee down to the kitchen.

xxx

**TBC...**

xxx

_The 'two grains of wheat in two bushels of chaff' quote is from 'The Merchant of Venice' by William Shakespeare._

_'With great power comes great responsibility' is, of course, from 'Spiderman' by Stan Lee._


	9. Chapter 9

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney._

_xxx  
_

On their first evening in Jack's townhouse, nobody felt like spending a lot of time in the less-than-spacious kitchen. So dinner was Chinese take-out.

After that meal they took a frosty half-mile walk to the Russet Stag pub, which Mr. Norrington knew to be family-friendly. They sipped peppermint cocoa, milled punch and hot buttered rum, and joined the locals singing several Christmas songs. Lysander needed to have it explained how anyone could eat a boar's head.

The child was rather tired when they got home. She, her Mom and Jack promptly vanished upstairs. James ensconced himself in the parlor's corner wing chair, to study a bound musical score. The whole family was scheduled to attend the Christmas Eve _Messiah From Scratch_ sing-along at Royal Albert Hall (Mare had snagged four tickets the same day she'd bought the townhouse), so James wanted to familiarize himself with the baritone part.

Slippered footsteps caught his attention. His pajama-clad cousin entered, carrying a medium-sized green shopping bag. Just for fun, Norrington addressed him in his sternest British Naval tone.

"Exactly what are you up to, Pirate?"

"I'm exactly up to makin' my contribution to the decor, exactly accordin' to our previous accord," Sparrow replied, giving his braids a haughty flick. He set the bag on the parlor couch and extracted something resembling a black velvet cantaloupe. It was a large drawstring jewelry pouch, which he opened with a reverent manner. Realizing what must be inside, Norrington stepped over to make sure Sparrow didn't try to affix it anyplace more conspicuous than it's designated branch.

But as Jack carefully hung the object, James had an agreeable shock. Under needle-filtered light, the withered relic looked less than repellent. It even possessed a certain dignity, reminiscent of a brown-toned El Greco portrait.

"That fits in much better than I'd expected," Norrington admitted.

"'She', if you please. 'Tis me Mum," Sparrow reminded. "Ah, the lady knows she's home. Note how she's smiling a bit?"

James checked again. Perhaps it was a trick of the shadows, but the leathery features seemed to have softened, relaxing into a fond expression. Jack mirrored it as he carefully smoothed the bright nimbus of backlit hair. The mother-son resemblance had never been clearer.

"'Also picked up a few pretties on Martinique." Jack raided the green bag again, removing a zip-lock bag full of seashells strung with loops. Purple and yellow scallops. Cowries with stripes, spots and speckles. Monochrome and chestnut-colored cone shells. One zigzagged volute, two ribbed harp shells. Pea-green and raspberry-pink snails. A pair of pristine white angel wings. And a chrysanthemum oyster that bore resemblance to an orange porcupine.

The Commodore made an admiring sound. Jack smirked wickedly. "You may assist with hanging 'em- you've a talent fer that!"

Ignoring the dig, James helped apply the new decorations. When they'd finished the two men sat on the parlor couch to appraise the results.

"You've made a fine contribution to our tree, Jack."

"The shells or Mum?"

"Both." Norrington carefully regarded the latter item. "If your mother really can spy on the living through that, object, she must be gratified by your current situation. You have finally achieved respectable social status. Albeit following a profession she couldn't possibly have imagined."

"I'd not place a bet on that. Mum had formidable powers of imagination!" Sparrow's cheerful grin drooped. "I only hope she's not too disappointed about the absence of any daughters-in-law or grandwhelps."

James decided not to comment. Sparrow cleared his throat. "You love Meredith, aye?"

"Yes, I do."

"When was it you first knew?"

"That I loved her?"

"An' that it were more'en a passing fancy. If you don't mind tellin'," Jack added, just slightly abashed.

"It was nothing like in the movies. No bursts of light or orchestral crescendos. The feeling, and my recognition of it, developed gradually."

"But there must've been some moments when you were more aware of it."

"I had a few of those, yes." Norrington rubbed his chin. "There was that Fourth of July when she visited me at the Academy. We went on an evening cruise, with several classmates and their own guests, to watch the New London fireworks from the Sound. On the ride out, the sunset and wind did amazing things to her hair... lighting it to a vivid crimson color and whipping it about like flames. She might have been some fire-haired goddess from Celtic mythology. I couldn't tear my eyes away.

"For some reason, that's when it occurred to me to wonder: how would I feel if this was the last time I'd ever see her? If, for whatever reason, she was going to leave for good on the following morning...?"

Jack prodded. "And?"

"And, I didn't like the idea at all. I suppose that qualifies as the moment I first realized I wanted her in my life permanently." Even from Norrington's mouth, firmer words had never been spoken. "Do you have any particular reason for asking?"

Sparrow tried to shrug. "Jus' curious 'bout what the indicators would be."

"Oh? Do you suspect you may have found true love?"

"Not at this present time. 'Been wonderin' a bit if I ever will. An' whether I'd recognize it when it happened."

"Hmmm." James had previously noticed that, over the past couple years, Jack's habitual promiscuity seemed to have moderated. Oh, the knave still enjoyed his one-night stands; he just didn't jump at every single chance anymore. 'Could be I'm gettin' a dram more concerned about quality than quantity,' Jack had once admitted.

But this latest conversation suggested the ex-pirate might possibly be getting his fill of casual flings, so was considering the alternative. Captain Libertine Sparrow, settled down with a wife and offspring... It rather boggled James' mind. Though it couldn't be denied, stranger things had already happened to both of them.

Not for the first time, Norrington wondered whether Jack's original life might have worked out that way, if he hadn't run into a gashing reef named Cutler Beckett. No spite-induced delivery assignment, no P brand exiling him to the criminal strata. Perhaps Sparrow would have become everything his mother had hoped for: a law-abiding merchant captain, with a normal family life and a normal lifespan... in which case neither of them would be here now, basking in the glitter of 21st century Christmas lights.

Of course, it was also possible Sparrow's penchant for untrammeled living had made his fall into piracy inevitable. James understood, better than most, what small variations of circumstance these things could turn on. And once he started pondering such matters...

Jack, perhaps surmising the direction his friend's thoughts were taking, pulled him back from that pointless exercise. "James? Do ya suppose Mare'll also take a more tolerant view of Mum's head?"

Norrington came back to the present. "I think it probable she'll find it far less offensive than she'd anticipated."

"Any chance she might let me relocate it to...?"

"Not the top, Jack. There's a reason why the Bethlehem star is placed above all else. Furthermore, I predict she'll still insist on putting the head away if we get any visitors. Because most people simply won't be able to understand. So I'd recommend you don't ask."

Jack pouted a resigned pout.

More steps were heard, coming down the stairs and up the hallway. As she swept in, the berobed woman announced, "I had to read her two more O'Henry stories after 'Gift of the Magi', but the Wild Child is down for the night. And speaking of wild..." She looked to the pirate. "When were you planning to hang up the shrunken head?"

"Already done, Mare. In the locale you suggested."

Mare stepped to where she could see. For a long moment she just stared. Sparrow and James exchanged knowing glances.

"It seems I owe you an apology."

"No need, luv. Mum really did have a wild streak to her. 'Tis why she socialized so well with all things avian."

"I mean, for objecting so strongly before I'd seen it. This head doesn't look like a savage's war trophy."

"Because it hain't. The blokes who affected that transformation believed they were conferring an honor, and a favor. If theer theory's right, Mum can look through her former residence ta see how her descendants are doin'. I doubt she's displeased with the view!" The gold-flecked smile was back. "She'd of liked you a lot, darlin' Mare. And Lysee. An' even this stuffy prig husband o' yours."

The stuffy prig grinned and scooted over, so his wife could join them on the couch. As Mare started to sit there was a papery rustle- she hastily straightened up.

Norrington snatched up the endangered shopping bag, glancing within to check the contents. The two beribboned little boxes were undamaged, the bright red envelope just slightly creased.

Jack's mustache twitched. "You know what's said about good things comin' in small packages."

James, whose own wrapped gift to Mare would fit neatly in a soap dish, had every reason to agree. "Often true. After all, this is likely to be the most-appreciated thing opened this year."

He had plucked out the envelope to smooth the crease. 'To Lysander' was scrawled across it in gold ink, in the most florid script a trained cartographer's hand could produce. Inside, the adults all knew, was a photo of a two-person sailboat- the original was currently stowed at the Marina Piccola. When Lysee got a look at that, they'd probably have to steel themselves against pleas for an immediate return to Capri.

Sparrow nodded agreeably. "'Tis the first step towards fulfilling her ambition ta be a ship's Captain. 'Seems ta run in the family."

"I think you had just as much to do with that particular ambition," Meredith countered. James returned envelope and bag to Jack, as Mare finally sat down. Her gaze swept over every inch of the decorated fir. "Oh, what lovely seashells! This is the most beautiful tree we've ever had."

"You say that every year, cinnabar," teased James.

"And I mean it every year." Meredith settled happily against her navyman's strong shoulder. "By the way, you haven't used up your Favors after all. It's appropriate for Jack's mother to be here."

"I'm glad to hear that." Norrington's voice was velvety, his eyes fixing on Mare's blissfully smiling mouth.

"Belay that, you two! I want ta linger here a while," the third wheel protested.

"We're just getting comfortable," assured James. "We're certainly not going any further than that, with your mother looking on... Sparrow!"

Jack was snuggling up to James' other shoulder. "I'm jus' gettin' comfortable too," he drawled.

To his annoyance, Norrington realized he couldn't shrug Jack off without seriously jostling Mare. He glanced from one to the other- neither lounger showed any inclination to move.

Mare chuckled- she was entirely aware of James' entrapment. "At least you'll keep warm there, Commodore."

"Aye. We all will," Jack added languidly. He yawned, eyelids drooping to half-mast.

James snorted... but Mare was right. An eiderdown quilt couldn't do the job any better. So, forcing himself to relax, he rested his head against the cushioned couch back. Still eyeing that bewitching tree.

"Indeed. Here's all the warmth anyone could want."

xxx

**TBC...**


	10. Chapter 10

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney_

xxx

Jack and Lysander had a most happy-busy Christmas Eve.

Right after breakfast they took a lengthy excursion into Hyde Park. Snow had fallen the previous day, damp enough to pack into the most satisfactory kind of snowballs. In one of the wooded areas, the two engaged in a snowball fight that went on for nearly an hour. It was difficult, even for them, to tell who'd gotten in more hits- Sparrow had better aim but Lysee could throw 'em in faster succession.

After a chowdery lunch, the whole family went to Albert Hall to participate in the Messiah sing-along. Jack and Lysander had another contest, meant to determine which of them could sing the _Hallelujah Chorus_ louder. The chagrined and amused parents proclaimed it a tie.

Dinner was at a midtown restaurant; stewed vegetables, roast beef, Yorkshire pudding and a sampler plate of chocolate treats. They'd taken a roundabout cab ride back, to get a gander at some of London's more impressive Christmas-light displays. Once home, everyone gathered around the tree to share a few seasonal readings. The day's final treat was eggnogs- Lysee's with just enough rum for flavor, Jack's with somewhat more.

Now, an hour short of midnight, they had both fallen asleep on either end of the parlor couch. Norrington grinned as he studied how they lay- curled like two cats, heads sharing the big middle cushion, copper and ebony braids mingling like dropped ribbons.

"I won't have any difficulty carrying Lysee to bed. Once she's out, nothing much short of a brass band will wake her. But hauling Sparrow up to the garret..."

Mare's maternal smile encompassed both sleepers. "Perhaps there's no need. He seems perfectly comfortable where he is."

"You're suggesting we let him spend the night here?"

"Unless you're afraid that'll interfere with Father Christmas' job." Mare had also partaken of the more-fortified eggnog; enough to put her in an endearingly silly mood.

James tilted his head. "I do have some concern. As I've seen for myself, even the vaguest sound of stealthy entrance can rouse Jack from deep sleep to full combat-readiness. He might attack before he realizes who the intruder is."

"Not to worry," Mare countered. "I have it on good authority that Mr. Claus is far more formidable than his appearance suggests."

"As is Sparrow."

"Then they'll probably block each other's lunges. And once they've recognized each other... Saint Nicholas is the patron saint of children and sailors, so they ought to get along fine."

"Perhaps too fine. Sparrow might start plying the gentleman with rum- he'll never get back to his rounds."

Mare could have been copying Jack's hand flutters. "I wouldn't worry about that, either. Father Christmas is an old pro at this game! I'm sure he can handle any misdirection Jack tries to dish out."

Her husband grimaced. "I'd like to believe that, but knowing what that rapscallion is capable of..."

"Jack or Santa?"

"You know, at times you can be nearly as nettlesome as Sparrow," Norrington grumbled.

"Just 'nearly'?"

"Believe me, that's saying something."

"Well, James, I seriously doubt it'll do any harm to leave Jack on this couch. Even if we accidentally wake him, he won't learn anything he doesn't already know," Mare pointed out.

"I wonder... All right, we can try. Why don't you start bringing down the presents while I put Lysee to bed."

As predicted, the girl slept soundly through the entire transfer and tucking-in. James took his time over the latter task. The child's facial resemblance to Esther was clearest when she was asleep. "Really just a hair's difference," he murmured, stroking one rubicund lock.

By the time he returned to the parlor, Mom had fetched a good number of wrapped boxes. She'd also seen to Jack's comfort, loosening his clothes and covering him with a soft blanket. She had even draped a clean hand towel over his eyes so he wouldn't be disturbed when the lights went off.

Working together, the couple soon had all the gifts downstairs and arranged beneath the tree. Finally they stepped back to view the results. The little fir was now standing in a patchwork quilt of shimmering wrapping papers.

James nodded with satisfaction. "It's perfect."

Meredith considered. "Very nearly." With a deft hand, she unhooked the shrunken head and moved it forward, to the front-center of the tree. "So she'll get a good view tomorrow," Mare explained, a tad extraneously. "Well. I guess we can now 'settle our brains for a long winter's nap.'"

"Let me check one last thing." Norrington moved to the parlor's gray-stone fireplace, stooping to peer up the dark chimney.

Mare arched an eyebrow. "Were you seriously expecting...?"

"Believe me, cinnabar, it wouldn't be the most unlikely thing I've ever seen." James straightened, unplugged the tree lights and switched off the overheads. Mare took his hand, bestowing a quick kiss. They both whispered their goodnights to Jack before vanishing upstairs.

Midnight arrived. Miles away, the resonant tones of Big Ben began to ring in Christmas Day. By some rare trick of the wind, the sound of those chimes carried all the way to the townhouse and into the parlor. Jack stirred, towel sliding from his forehead as his eyes opened halfway. His bleary gaze happened to fall straight on the relocated head.

Even in his twilight sleep, he felt a deep sense of comfort and joy. Gazing back at him was a vision from his earliest memories; a beautiful young face, dark-skinned with just a few care lines, framed by shimmering black hair. That delicate, invincible smile conveyed she still loved her brave little bird. As well as everyone else now within these walls.

The twelfth chime sounded, slowing fading to nothingness. As did the adoring continence. But the assurance lingered.

With a peaceful sigh, Jack sank back into holy darkness. And the most restful slumber he'd ever known.

xxx

**TBC...**


	11. Chapter 11

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney_

_xxx_

**_Overheard On Christmas Day:_**

"That's a nice bit of paper-folding, Lysander. 'Tis a beautiful horse."

"It's a ship!"

"Oh. A ship with legs?"

"It's a ship that grows legs so you can ride it over land, too! I wanted to invent an origami thing for you that nobody'd done before."

"Most creative of you, darlin'. That'd be a most useful ability fer a ship to possess. Maybe I'll show this model ta Mr. Murphy- see if he thinks it can be built."

"Could I be the one to show him?"

"Lass, we've been over this before. Our collective employer needs ta keep a low profile. 'Twill be a few years yet before you can meet him."

"But I can keep a secret! I didn't tell anybody about that time you lost your trousers in..."

"Here- this bonnie envelope appears ta have your name on it."

:paper crackle:

_Joyful Shriek!_

"I expected you'd like it."

"I Love It I Love It I Love It Thank You Cousin Jack Thank You!"

"Whoa, easy on the goods, chit! Yer most wel..."

"Can we sail on it today?"

"'Tis berthed at Capri. Ye'll haveta wait until..."

"Can we go back today? Please please please?"

"This was expected, too."

x

"Is this... real?"

"So the seller assures me."

"An actual emerald? Oh James, you shouldn't have!"

"Hmm. Perhaps you're right. Then I suppose I'll have to return..."

**"Don't You Dare!"**

x

"Jack? May I have a word in private?"

"Sure, cousin. What's yer concern?"

"About this ring you gave me..."

"Not to yer liking?"

"Quite the contrary. I've always admired the understated elegance of carved gold."

"Ah, so I picked the right item from my vault!"

"I do, however, feel compelled to ask... now don't take this the wrong way..."

"Whether my original acquisition of this bit of shine was affected by lawful means?"

"Frankly, yes."

"I did not steal it... from any living person."

"Sparrow. Tell me. Now."

:shuffle: "Got it from a bloke who had no further use whatsoever fer it."

"You robbed a corpse."

"It were a perfectly legitimate instance of post-battle salvaging, following that dustup at Waterloo! I took it off a French officer, who undoubtedly had the blood of yer fellow countrymen on his..."

"Wait! This ring is an artifact from the Battle of Waterloo?"

"...!" "Yes, it is! The very historical event you've recently been reading about. It'd slipped me mind."

"Do you remember which part of the battlefield this was? The Hougoumont orchard? The Mont St. Jean ridge?"

"Er, I'd have ta consult a map..."

"Did you notice anything on man's uniform indicating his rank?"

"This were quite a while ago, James. You can hardly expect me ta recall every detail!"

"I would very much appreciate it if you'd relate everything you do remember. I'll do all the writing down."

"I'll be delighted to acquiesce to yer request, bein' aware that a provenance adds value ta any article. But 'twill take some concentrating. Can it wait until tomorrow?"

"Yes, certainly."

"So... might you be wearin' this historical artifact to dinner?"

"I shall indeed!"

"It's of no concern that I...?"

"The statute of limitations has long since expired. And it was a minor offense to begin with."

"Whatever rationale works fer you, cousin."

x

"How long has Lysee been on that phone?"

"I haven't been counting the minutes, James."

"It seems a rather lengthy conversation, considering he can't understand a word she's saying."

"I, for one, am never dead certain how much Royal understands."

"But he's already received all the reassurance he's going to have from the sound of her voice. I doubt he'll get any benefit from a minute-by-minute account of her visit to London."

"This call is mostly for Lysee. You know she misses him."

"It just seems like a lot of phone-bill to run up for a pet she'll be rejoining in a few days."

"If you think this is bad, wait until she has a boyfriend."

:audible grimace: "I'd really rather not contemplate that quite yet."

"Same here. So perhaps we should just enjoy this interval when she still has the good sense to prefer dogs."

"You do have a talent for perspectifying things, dearest."

"Thank you... I guess. Is that verb a new internet term?"

"Either that or Sparrow's. I can never keep track."

x

"I must protest, Mrs. Norrington! It's markedly unChristmasy ta take away a bloke's present after the givin' of it!"

"I'm claiming Extenuating Circumstances. Specifically: in just a few minutes you're going to be helping get dinner ready."

"Luv, I can assure you I've done food prep at every gradation of sobriety."

"Not while sharing a very tight kitchen! Look, I know being prudent takes effort for you, but try. It'll really put a crimp on the day if we have to call an ambulance because someone staggered into somebody whist carrying a sharp knife, or a pot of boiling water."

"Humph."

"Anyway, you'll enjoy it all the more if you save some for later. Oronoco Fazenda Reserva is a premium rum, meant to be savored slowly. Not chugged like a fraternity boy on a dare."

"With all due respect to the Oronocoians' efforts, it seems like the rightful owner should be the one ta decide that."

"Jack. Please?"

"Oh, verra well! If ye'll be so kind as ta inform me where you stowed the bottle, I promise I'll not touch it again before evening."

"It's in the parlor, on the east-wall bookshelf."

"I'd already looked theer."

"Behind the bulkiest book on the shelf. The gilt-leather one."

"You mean...?"

"Yep- behind that big Bible. Which, not incidentally, is directly in you mother's line of sight."

"That's an insidious maneuver, lass!"

"But entirely in keeping with the day, lad. Let's repair to the kitchen, shall we? That turkey isn't going to stuff itself."

x

_(Caution: This section includes spoilers for O. Henry's 'The Gift of the Magi')_

"But I just wanted to help!"

"And we appreciate it, gattina. Problem is, the kitchen here is much smaller than the one at home. There's only room for two cooks at a time to work there."

"Why aren't you cooking?"

"Because I never had occasion to learn how. Because, for most of my life, I had other people preparing my meals for me. Your Mom and your cousin Jack, on the other hand, spent a lot of years living on their own, so they had to learn."

"I wanna watch my _Last Unicorn_ DVD!"

"Lysander Anne, you know we didn't bring a player. Remember our accord?"

"But I don't have anything to do!"

"There's plenty of books here; we can read something. Perhaps together. How about _A Child's Christmas in Wales_? You enjoyed that last night."

"It's too soon. I'd like _Christmas Carol_."

"We can start, but it's too long to finish before dinner."

"_Gift of the Magi_."

"That would be fine. If you don't mind already knowing the ending."

"Do you think Della's hair was like Mom's?"

"Well, according to the text, Della had dark brown hair. Though I can't imagine it could have looked any prettier."

"You can change the words when you read to make it red hair."

"If you wish. Should I also change Della's name to 'Meredith'? Her much-kissed husband is already named 'Jim'."

"Can they have a little girl? An' a dog?"

"I suppose that can be worked in."

"An' a Cousin Jack?"

"Now that would turn it into a different story altogether! Jack will probably transform himself into a skeleton pirate to go fetch Jim's watch. And strike a deal with a sea goddess to make Della's hair grow back overnight."

"I like that story more!"

"Why am I not surprised?"

x

"I'm gonna explode!"

"Please refrain from doin' that, chit! 'Twould be a most unesthetic conclusion to a highly superior meal."

"I can't eat one more bite!"

"You're sure about that, gattina?"

"Not one itty bitty teeny minuscule bite!"

"Even of... Bûche de Noël?"

"I Want The End Slice!"

x

_"This time of the year is spent in good cheer_  
_An' neighbors together do meet,_  
_To sit by the fire, with friendly desire_  
_Each other with rum to greet..."_

_"The First Noël, the angels did say,_  
_Was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay..."_

_"Feliz Navidad! Feliz Navidad!_  
_Feliz Navidad, Prospero Año y Felicidad..."_

_"Good King Wenceslas looked out on the feast of Stephen,_  
_When the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even..."_

_"Tomorrow shall be my dancing day, I would my true love did so chance,_  
_To see the legend of my play, to call my true love to my dance..."_

_"On Christmas night all Christians sing_  
_To hear the news the angels bring,_  
_News of great joy, news of great mirth,_  
_News of our merciful King's birth..."_

_"And so this is Christmas, and what have you done?_  
_Another year over, a new one just begun,_  
_And so this is Christmas, I hope you have fun,_  
_The near and the dear ones, the old and the young..."_

_"Frosty the snowman was a jolly happy soul,_  
_With a corncob pipe and a button nose and two eyes made out of coal..."_

_"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life fer me...!"_

"Sparrow, I think you've had enough of that eggnog."

x

"So, was that a fun Christmas?"

"It was made of win, Mom!"

"As fun as that! What part did you like best?"

"Getting the picture of the sailboat."

"Of course."

"And the cake."

"That did turn out well. I'll have to make it with ice wine from now on."

"An' when we were singing..."

"Yes?"

"When we were singing songs by the tree, I think the shrunken head was smiling at us."

"Really!"

"But not a creepy way- it looked friendly."

"Well. I've been told, by someone who'd know, that that woman would be happy we're here."

"Can we come back every Christmas? An' bring the head?"

"That would be up to Cousin Jack. It's his house and his shrunken head. But if you ask him nicely he'll probably say yes."

"Can we ask now?"

"Not right now- it's late. Time for you to go to sleep."

"I'm not tired."

"Then just lie still for five minutes, and see how you feel then."

- five minutes later -

_childish snoring_

: gentle kiss : "Sweet dreams, pumpkin."

x

"Well. I consider that a wonderful day."

"Our best Christmas yet! Other than that one we spent in Ontario."

"When Lysee was three. Yes, there's nothing like seeing it all through a toddler's eyes."

"Agreed... Cinnabar, are you quite certain you wouldn't like...?"

"After the Fountain, dearest. Lysander's enough of a handful by herself."

"That's because she's burning bright with potential."

"Oh yes. I'm sure our efforts will be worth it in the long run. But would you really want to cope with two, or more, such kids at once?"

"That's a valid point. All right. After the Fountain it is."

"I mark it on my calendar."

"On the other hand, there's no cause to postpone..."

"Awww. Didn't you get enough presents today?"

"I was hoping for just one more."

"Mmmmm..."

"MmmMmmm..."

"Merry Christmas, my courageous Commodore."

"Same to you, my marvelous Mare."

x

"Mum...? I don't know if you kin hear through this, along with seein'. In case you can, I jus' wanted ta tell you I'm all right. Even if me life didn't follow the course you tried ta set fer me all those years ago. 'Seems I crossed wakes with a certain vicious... person, who can't be described in terms fit few a lady's ears. But I paid him back, good an' proper. Don't think I didn't!

"Enough years've gone by since then fer my 'fall from grace' ta be fergot. So I've managed ta work me way back up, albeit by an indirect route... only recently put me 'criminal' ways entirely to me rudder. I can move amidst any social strata I care to now. An' I'm beholden ta no one!

"An' I've got mates, Mum! The best a bloke could want- you've seen 'em. Me former Commodorial nemesis, an' his most valiant lady wife. An' theer chit, whom you'd of been proud ta bear yerself... if that'd been allowed. So I've got pretty near all I need. 'Tis true, theer's no especial lass on my horizon- might be I'm not ready fer that. But theer's time yet. Other than that arguable hiatus, I'm doin' fine. Jus' wanted you ta know.

"The holidays'll be windin' down soon, after which I'll be putting yer mortal remnants away. But I'll take you out again, afore too long... inform you how things are progressin'. I'll never close yer porthole fer good. You have my word on that.

"I still love you, Mum.

"You have a good night now, eh?"

xxx

**Finis  
**


	12. Chapter 12

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney_

xxx

Cornwall, England, was a region with definite seasons. That was one of the reasons James and Meredith had decided to move there- James in particular was looking forward to having proper English winters again. But he knew it would be a new, possibly trying experience for daughter Lysander, so he'd told her it would be useful preparation for her planned career. A sailor needed to know how to cope with all sorts of weather.

This, however, was a fine June morning, and the combination of warm rays and ocean breeze was perfect for sunbathing. So Jack, currently visiting the Norrington's newly occupied farm, carried a beach towel to the highest knoll in the pasture to stretch out and enjoy it. His blissful soiree was interrupted when he detected the approach of light footfalls. Sparrow reached to his nearby shorts and shirt, as he quickly raised himself on one elbow.

A crowned platinum-green head turned to meet his stare. It was Jules, the green peacock owned by the folks at the next-over farm. The bird had limited comprehension of boundaries, so included the Norrington's property in his rounds. Nobody had any objection to this.

"Mornin', you walking cache box," Jack greeted. He studied the gold-and-beryl colored plumes, idly calculating what they'd be worth if they were real jewels. The beady avian eye mirrored his examination. Satisfied that Jack was neither foe nor prospective mate, Jules gave a feathery shrug and strutted off, his train bobbing like a skiff on a wake. Jack watched until the shimmering creature had vanished downslope, then settled back onto his towel, reveling in the sensations of sun and gentle wind.

A few minutes later he heard much heavier steps. These came to a halt at the knoll's edge, just beyond his sight.

"Are you decent, Sparrow?"

"I am decent, I also happen to be naked," Jack quoted.

"I'll give you a minute."

Jack tugged his clothes back on, grumbling a bit. James waited 'til he'd finished and sat up, before crossing the remaining distance.

"Must you do that, Sparrow?"

"Yes, I must! 'Have ta retain my Mediterranean-appropriate pigmentation. You should try it, cousin. The extra vitamin D might improve yer disposition."

James turned his face into the wind. "It is a nice breeze up here." With a small grin, James sat beside him on the beach towel. Jack noticed, with a mitigated pang, how the outdoor light underscored the new lines around James' eyes and mouth. He'd also acquired a few more gray hairs since the last time Jack had seen him. _/ I suppose that comes of bein' parent to a teenager./_

"Perhaps I _should_ come up here more often," Norrington murmured. Jack didn't need to ask why. For comfortable minutes they took in the view- the narrow strip of ocean, jagged green hedgerows, rock-studded pasture and sturdy rustic buildings. The house and barn below were fair enough, both constructed of close-placed brown stones, the latter topped with a decorative copper-roofed cupola.

A distant tattoo of hooves reached their ears. Through a gap in the pasture-border hedgerow they saw two horses speeding down the wooded trail. The shade obscured the rider's features, but there was no mistaking Pirate's ebony-brown hide, or Granuaile's spotted chestnut one. Nor, of course, the gray-and-tan missile following a safe distance behind.

Jack smiled approvingly. "You've done well choosin' Lysee's mount. Pirate's a right bonnie filly."

"And she's steady as rock. Name not withstanding, Pirate is consistently law-abiding."

"That is appropriate fer a beginning rider." Jack's memory flitted to a similarly reliable gold-and-black cow horse, racing across the Argentine plains. "An' Granuaile?"

"Also well-mannered. A gift from a neighbor who was obliged to move back to London and wanted to be sure his old mare went to someone who'd treat her well."

"I'd like to try one or the other sometime."

"You're most welcome to, but better wait 'til tomorrow. We don't want to risk overworking them."

They turned heads to watch the riders pass through a wider gap in the trees, Granuaile now in front. As Lysee barreled though, Jack felt a twinge at what was not there to be noticed.

"I rather miss those plaits." Even with forewarning, it had been a bit of a jolt when he'd first viewed Lysee's new hairstyle; a close layered cut barely longer than a boy's.

"I think she does too, though she'll never admit it. Their murder was a 'crime of impulse,'" James explained. "We knew she was in a bad mood that morning, but didn't expect what happened. We got home from shopping to find her in the kitchen with that jutted-chin look..."

"I know it."

"...and both braids on the counter, beside the knife she'd used to hack them off. I was quite appalled, but Mare spoke first. Calm as you please, she pronounced, 'Well, honey, it's your hair so I suppose it's your decision.'"

"Stole her thunder, eh?"

"She did. I took that as a cue to treat this as a mother-daughter matter and just started putting the groceries away. Lysee suddenly burst into tears, wailing that she'd cut them off because she didn't want to look like a little kid anymore, but she didn't think she'd look so ugly without them!

"Meredith handled that, too. She fetched scissors to trim the remnants so they'd at least be symmetrical, all the while reminding Lysee the hair would grow back, and she wouldn't have to braid it if she'd didn't want to. They could check the online hairstyle sites to pick something more suitable for her age bracket. That kid was well-behaved for a full two days afterwards."

"Ah, so theer was an up side."

James grimaced. "I'm not sure it was really worth the price. Given a choice between one or the other, I'd rather see her rebellious than miserable."

Jack nodded in wry agreement. "Guess ya have to expect some of that from a teen. She's establishin' her capacity fer independence- 'tis exhilaratin' an' frightenin' all at once. I suspect even you went through that transition."

"Of course. And it did include doing some things I knew my parents wouldn't approve of... though, as best I recall, that wasn't my specific motive for doing them." James shook his head. "I can't help worrying about her. How she could get badly hurt, in any of several ways, before she gets through this phase."

"That's a universal burden of parenthood. But the lass has inherited the family intelligence so'll probably steer clear of the rockiest straits." Jack added, "You do know I'll help with that, any way I can."

"I know, and I appreciate it." Norrington smiled sadly. "I can't deny a certain nostalgia for the days when I could make my little girl smile just by walking through the door."

"An' you will again, James. When she's grown up enough ta realize what exemplary parents she's got."

"So I keep telling myself." They fell into companionable silence. The two horses had passed out of hearing.

As his gaze strayed towards the barn, James remembered something. "There's a matter I meant to tell you about. This farm has a resident you haven't yet seen."

Jack made a show of counting off his fingers. "I was introduced ta Pirate an' Granuaile first. Since then I've made the acquaintance of Agnes, Claire, Barbara..."

"Just say 'the chickens', Sparrow."

"Aye, the omelet layers. An' I had a brief encounter with Jules, yer shared lawn ornament. What does that leave?"

"I should explain from the beginning. Let's start back." James eased to his feet and headed downhill towards the buildings. Jack snatched up the towel and accompanied him. "Last month I drove a rented lorry to Plymouth to fetch our furniture shipment... By the way, thank you for including the velvet settee'."

"I'm aware yer womenfolk fancy that bit o' frippery. So, what happened in Plymouth?"

"Just after I parked at the designated dock, I glimpsed a certain small animal running loose among the shipping containers. I asked a worker about it; he told me it'd been around for a week or so, presumably after escaping from a ship. He said it wasn't uncommon for such refugees to be lurking among the loading docks. Since this one was neither diseased-looking nor particularly valuable, nobody was much concerned.

"I turned attention to collecting my shipment and thought no more about it. That is, not until I'd returned home and started unloading the lorry..."

"Lemme guess- the critter had stowed away!"

"Exactly. I had no clue she was in there 'til I tugged out a crate and this furry bundle leapt out, almost into my face! My unexpected passenger streaked across the yard and vanished into our barn. Which is where she's been living ever since." The men were now entering the yard beside that very structure. "I'm mentioning it now because I suspect you'll be less than delighted the first time you spot her."

Jack found that last statement puzzling. "An' why would that be?"

They'd reached the mounting block beside the barn's main entrance. James paused and pointed upwards, towards what appeared to be a small black-and-white gargoyle perched on the corner of the shingled roof.

Jack looked. The gargoyle looked back, flicking a long tail.

"Buggerin' hell!" There was no mistaking that distinct facial ruff, or the impish grin. It was none other than Barbossa's monkey. "You've been toleratin' that perfidious primate on yer property?"

"We did make some unsuccessful attempts to trap her before we decided there was no real need. She doesn't do any harm, beyond the occasional filching of foodstuffs. Both horses seem to enjoy her company. And, being 'undead', it's most unlikely she's carrying anything a mortal could catch."

"I'm still surprised at you. Deliberately violatin' the quarantine laws!"

Norrington met Sparrow's eye squarely. "If you've given me a truthful account of that monkey's origin, this qualifies as a 'special situation.'"

"That it is." Jack was regarding the animal like something he'd scraped off his shoe, and she was returning the look. "Really, what are the odds that beastie would land up here!"

"I don't think it's coincidence. I believe she sneaked into my lorry because she recognized me from the Pasadena Mission, and deduced that, through me, she might find you again."

Jack looked incredulous. "Why do ya think the little maggot'd be remotely interested in locatin' me?"

"Because you, Jack Sparrow, are the only remaining fragment from her original life. You of all people should be able to understand the attraction that lends. Even to an enemy."

Sparrow's mouth twisted, the way it did when conceding something he'd rather not. His disdainful glare softened. The monkey followed suit, relaxing into a catlike crouch.

"On a related topic: I'd recommend you not berate her within my daughter's hearing. Lysander has been making a concerted effort to befriend that creature, offering her peanuts and such. She's named her Georgette."

"Georgette?"

"It was originally 'George', until I pointed out the gender."

"Oh." Jack scowled again. "Have you also told her what to expect the first time that critter strays into a moonbeam?"

"I've passed on that rumor, yes. Lysee is very much looking forward to confirming it."

"Might've known. Theer's no accountin' fer adolescent tastes."

"But Georgette hasn't been cooperating. She always hunkers down inside the cupola before nightfall. I think she knows how off-putting her 'singularity' is."

"Aye, the baggage is well aware of that! It stands ta reason she'd not risk alienating her current food source," Sparrow scoffed.

"And it's just possible she'd rather retain her new friend," James chided. "I've watched Lysee and Georgette interacting, and I'm convinced the affection is mutual. Mare's been doing some internet research on monkeys. In addition to being unusually intelligent, capuchins are noted for their readiness to bond with humans. That's why they're favored as trained aides for the handicapped."

"Humph."

James sighed. "Sparrow, at least have a look at the two together before you pass judgment. You might be pleasantly surprised. Or do you find it intolerable for Lysee to like anything you don't?"

"That's not it, James. The chit can befriend any manner of animal or ghost she wants to, so long as 'tis not a threat to her. _Theer's_ the rub!"

"Having closely observed the situation, I believe Georgette does not pose threat to her. So does Mare. And Royal, and the horses."

"What about the chickens?"

"Their opinion is of no concern." Norrington glanced between pirate and primate. "As mentioned, I have some preparations to make, so I'll leave you two to get reacquainted. I'll look for you at lunch." The ex-commodore strode from the yard, following the flagstone path to the farmhouse.

Jack considered a bit, before moving to sit on the mounting block. For Lysander's sake he'd give this furry hellion a chance to meet him halfway. The monkey seemed to've made a similar decision, for she promptly shimmied down the barn's drain pipe and joined him, squatting on the block's other end with a 'Let's get this over with' grimace.

Jack humphed again, gaze straying to nothing. His memory drifted back, to the first time he'd ever seen this ...

... smelly bundle of unclean fur, clinging tightly to Barbossa's shirt front, glaring at the unsympathetic Captain. His First Mate had just returned from shore leave in Puerto Limón, and Sparrow was not happy about his acquired souvenir. Jack had a general dislike of animals aboard his ship, other than those headed for the dinner table.

A cat he could tolerate. Felines earned their keep with rat-catching, and carried out their excretory functions in a half-civilized manner (though Jack had evicted the last one for whelping her kittens in his shirt drawer, believing it more than generous of him to deliver the whole mewling lot to safe onshore locale.) But primates lacked any redeeming values whatsoever. This odious creature would invade every corner of his ship, chattering and dropping dung from stem to stern. He'd not endure such befoulment of his beautiful _Pearl_!

Barbossa had glowered, but made his counter arguments in a polite tone. He'd rescued this monkey from a bad situation; returning it was not an option. The objectionable smell would not last; he intended to clean the creature off and make reasonable efforts to keep it that way. He would control the body-functions problem by diapering the animal, even promising to clean up after any mishaps.

For the sake of their friendship (which may have still existed then), Jack had finally agreed to give it a trial run. His First Mate'd upheld his end of the deal, for most part. The diapering had occasionally proved inadequate, and Sparrow had followed each such mishap with creative suggestions for eliminating the feculent bugger. He'd also twitted Hector for always referring to the critter in the masculine, evidence to the contrary notwithstanding, and for dressing her to conceal said evidence (Barbossa seemed a bit self-conscious about having a female pet.)

Jack had considered these to be naught but ordinary jests. He hadn't appreciated then, that people were often disproportionately resentful of taunts directed at their companion animals. Not that Jack believed that, by itself, accounted for Barbossa turning mutinous... but it probably hadn't helped.

It was the day after the mutiny, though, when the monkey/Captain animosity had really solidified. Sparrow remembered it all too well...

... bound to the base of the mainmast, splinters gouging his back. Tight hemp biting his wrists and compressing bruised ribs, making every breath a trial. Continually blinking away the blood flooding his left eye from his slashed eyebrow. And the nauseating spectacle through that red haze... that hellspawn of a primate, grinning demonically as she waved a water flask before his nose, the sloshing sounds mocking the growing torment of his thirst... the cruel laughter of those thrice-damned betrayers, amused at her antics...

Present-day Georgette seemed to read his thoughts. She hung her head, emitting a few apologetic grunts. Jack's lip curled, not altogether inclined to accept. But he did push the bitter image aside, letting a fairer one take it's place...

... himself at the wheel of his just-regained_ Black Pearl_, free wind whipping his hair and the sails, hurrying them towards Isla de Muerta. Surely the accumulated swag there would provide the wherewithal for him to eliminate his debt to Davy Jones...! Nobody had been more acutely disappointed than himself, when they arrived at the island coordinates to find nothing but floating rafts of debris. They crew had been checking these for anything worth salvaging, when something had sprung from the wreckage and scrambled up the _Pearl's_ side and into the rigging. That screeching, hat-stealing infestation had been a thorn in his side through those desperate following months. Somehow the monkey knew Jack was responsible for her best friend's demise, and was determined to wreck whatever retaliation she could for it. One of the few bright spots in that interval had been delivering the unkillable imp into Tia Dalma's keeping.

For a long while afterwards, other enemies had loomed larger on his horizon. But once those were dispatched Barbossa had quickly reclaimed that title, depriving Jack of his hard-won ship yet again.

Ah, but he'd taken less than ten years to avenge himself for that second mutiny, hadn't he? A lot less...

... once again sailing his _Pearl_ away from that irredeemably treacherous cur. Barbossa standing, stunned and dripping, on the Guadeloupe dock. At the time, Jack had only half-noticed something hurling from the rigging into the water. Or the small dark object crawling up the dock piling towards Hector, or the scarce-seen protrusion appearing on his former mate's shoulder. Not long after, the man had shrunk out of Jack's sight... for the very last time.

Two years later Barbossa was dead on the deck of the _Carthage_, killed in a savage fight against the marines who'd ambushed him. Though he hadn't witnessed it, Jack was certain the old pirate's pet had been there- unquestionably the only crewmember who'd escaped alive. In the midst of all that carnage, nobody would've noticed a bereaved little monkey slipping over the side.

Where she'd spent the years between then and 1934, Sparrow could only guess. Perhaps in Latin America. Glimpses of her in the moonlight might possibly account for the legend of the Chupacabra. He had no way to be sure of it, nor whether her life had been hard or easy. But when they'd had their chance encounter in Pasadena, her response to James' offered apple had told Jack one thing. The centuries had not erased her memories of, or high regard for, the human who'd rescued her from a 'bad situation'. It may have been the only selfless deed Barbossa had ever committed, but something remembered him for it.

And now here she was, sitting uneasily beside the former nemesis who was also her one remaining link to her years as Hector Barbossa's beloved companion. Mr. Norrington was correct; Jack could sympathize with her dilemma.

Sparrow eyed the perched simian with grudging respect. Whatever else, he had to commend the creature for her loyalty. Perhaps it wouldn't kill him to say so...

The monkey jumped in place, chattering excitedly. Thudding hooves announced the womens' return from their morning gallop.

Lysee appeared first, reining Pirate to a walk as she steered towards the mounting block. "Hi, Jack! Hi Georgette!"

"Greetings, lass!" Sparrow was already getting used to that boyish haircut. Not like it was a bad look on her. The snorting Granuaile, with her longer-tressed rider, trotted in next. A panting and happy Royal brought up the rear.

As Lysee drew up to the block, Georgette bounded directly onto her saddle horn. Pirate, true to James' description, did nothing beyond shaking her slender black muzzle. Lysee spared one hand to stroke the monkey's back as the long tail encircled her waist.

Mare pulled her spotted mount alongside, smiling down at Jack. "Oh, good! You _are_ able to tolerate Georgette's proximity."

The monkey was snuggled against Lysee's shirt front, making little pleased whimpers. Jack couldn't believe it was entirely feigned. Royal sauntered over, looking up with doggy approval. That mutt was a demonstrably good judge of human character; perhaps Jack could trust his assessment of other primates too.

Lysander mentioned, "Dad said it would probably take a while before you liked her, 'cause you used to have a monkey aboard your ship that made trouble."

"That could be said." Georgette had the grace to hide her face in the shirt folds.

Lysee kept hold of the simian as she dismounted and handed the reins to her Mom, who led both horses into the barn. The lass dug into a shirt pocket for some shelled peanuts, which Georgette eagerly accepted and devoured.

_/ That's one preference we share,/_ Jack considered. "You do know she's fond of apples."

"I know she likes getting them. She doesn't always eat them. Sometimes she just takes them up to the cupola."

"Perhaps she enjoys their smell." Jack eyed that little mason structure "You'll have to provide more weather-resistant accommodations for her, come winter."

"I know that! Dad wants to build something for her in the barn, but I think inside the house would be better. Don't you think it'd...?"

Jack raised both hands. "Lass, you know I don't like ta get involved in family disputes!"

"Lysee! Time to rub down the horses!"

"Coming, Mom!" The girl transferred her pet to the mounting block, where she resumed her feline pose. "Georgette really is friendly once you get to know her. Just give her a chance!" Lysee spun on her boot heel and followed her mother into the barn. Royal solemnly seated himself beside the block, like a judge presiding over a court of law.

Jack blew on his mustache again. For a long moment he regarded the curled capuchin, now looking quite contrite and harmless. "Yer conductin' yerself well with the lass. I do regard that as a point in yer favor." The monkey seemed to understand. She reclined onto her back, cheekily showing her teeth.

"Georgette... you are agreeable ta that moniker?" She chirped in a tolerant manner. "Here's how I see it, Georgette. Whatever our conflicts an' differences, we do have one thing in common beyond a taste fer peanuts. Both of us desire the good opinion an' continued companionship of Lysander Anne Norrington." The monkey grunted confirmation. "So, we can set one of two courses. We can continue our habitual animosities, at the risk that Lysee will someday be obligated ta reject one or the other of us." To his gratification, the monkey didn't seem to like that idea- her brow wrinkled worriedly._ / I probably would have the edge theer. /_

"Or, we can decide that, whatever offenses we may've previously committed against each other, theer too far in the past ta be of concern now. 'Least not to the point of defining our relationship. In other words: 'tis in our mutual interest ta try ta get along. What say you?" The creature tilted her head, apparently mulling it over. Then she quite deliberately rolled back into a sitting position, her stare meeting his as she nodded. "Then we have an accord?"

Georgette raised one dark arm- the selfsame gesture she'd made in response to a far older inquiry. Jack recollected that moment... one of a few when he hadn't felt like wringing that impudent simian neck. "_Had_ you really missed me?"

The monkey bared her teeth again, in a not-unfriendly manner. "Saucy imp," Jack muttered in a similar tone. The two slapped palms.

Royal's tail thumped like a judge's gavel.

xxx

**FINIS**

xxx

_"I am decent, I also happen to be naked" is a quote from the play 'The Goodbye Girl', by Neil Simon._

_The Chupacabra (Latin for 'Goat Sucker') is an unconfirmed small predator, allegedly native to Central and South America, with a penchant for sucking blood from livestock. It's been described as cat-sized, black and skinny, with oversized claws and fangs... rather similar to a certain moonlit monkey in CotBP._


	13. Chapter 13

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney_

_xxx_

"Lord love a duck!" Meredith hastily yanked up her hood as she stepped out the back door, into the darkened farmyard. It'd been decades since she'd experienced late Autumn in Great Britain, and she'd forgotten just how cold it could get. Most fortuitously, Lysander was (so far) regarding the new climate as an Adventure. Mare could only hope that attitude would last.

A familiar furry hide brushed against her trouser leg. Royal had come out too, eager to assist with her search. Mare was already 93% sure where their errant house guest had taken himself, but the dog's support was appreciated. She bent to fondle the shaggy brown ears. Royal expressed appreciation with loud, frozen-white panting.

"That's my good boy. Now, go find Jack!" The mutt surged forward, heading directly towards the barn. The nearly-full moon, currently entangled with their hedgerow's upper edge, threw jagged shadows across the flagstone path.

As they approached the stable door Mare heard confirmation within: Jack's slightly slurred light-baritone, warbling a poignant tune. He certainly had a decent set of pipes. Mare paused on the stone threshold to listen.

_"The waves are dancing merrily, merrily,_  
_Ho-ro Mhai-ri Dhu, turn ye to me..._  
_The seabirds are wailing wearily, wearily,_  
_Ho-ro Mhai-ri Dhu, turn ye to me..._

_Hushed be thy moaning, young bird of the sea,_  
_Thy home on the rocks is a shelter to thee,_  
_Thy home is the angry wave,_  
_Mine but the lonely grave..._  
_Ho-ro Mhai-ri Dhu, turn ye to me..."_

Finally she tugged the rough door open, stepping into the enveloping fragrance of hay and horses. The glaring ceiling lights were already on.

Two equine muzzles- one lean and dark, the other rounded and pale- wickered greetings over the stall railing. Below them, Sparrow was seated against a hay bale, coat open and legs sprawled. A mostly-empty bottle glinted in one hand, swinging in slow counterpoint to his mournful voice. On an adjacent bale perched his one-monkey audience, swaying more precariously than usual.

Jack gallantly raised the bottle to his hostess. "A fair evenin' ta you, good Mare!" The capuchin half-screeched a welcome, head tilting forty degrees to starboard. Sensing something amiss, Royal hurried over to inspect his smaller friend. One light touch of his nose toppled Georgette onto her side.

Mare, noticing the tin cup between man and monkey, parked a disapproving fist on one hip. "Mr. Sparrow, did you get that poor creature intoxicated?"

Jack waved a wildly negating hand. "Only made the offer! Acceptin' was entirely up ta her." Noting Mare's sharp glance towards Granuaile and Pirate, he assured, "Not ta worry- I'd never make such offer to yer hoofy beasts! 'Couldn't possibly provide enough ta satisfy 'em." He sloshed the remaining bit of rum for emphasis.

Having established Georgette was in no immediate peril, Royal seated himself close beside the bale, guarding against any predators that might attempt to exploit her vulnerable state. The monkey chirped contentedly, batting playfully at Royal's chin whiskers.

Mare's aspect softened. "At least she's a happy drunk." In fact, nobody in this barn looked out of sorts. The horses were flicking their ears, hoping the ex-pirate would give them an encore. After a moment's consideration, Mare seated herself on a hay bale across from Jack's.

"Fancy a spot o' rum, Mrs. Norrington?"

"No thanks. Never really cared for it."

"I know. Jus' thought I should ask." Sparrow took a slow swallow, frowning thoughtfully at the cheerfully plastered primate. "'Tis a puzzlement... the Aztec Curse's supposed ta rob a thief of any sensation o' pleasure, or temperature. Yet 'tis evident this beastie experiences both."

Mare glanced at the numerous peanut shells, and one apple core, scattered about the barn floor. "I've had the same impression. I can only assume the heathen gods don't hold animals to the same standard of accountability." She wryly eyed her besotted house guest. "I am not utterly lacking in clemency myself, Mr. Sparrow. You didn't need to sneak out to this cold barn to 'wet your whistle.'"

"I'd two compellin' reasons fer doin' so, luv. First: 'twould've been bad form ta over-imbibe in the vicinity of yer chit. Even if, as James informs me, 'tis no longer entirely _Terra Incognia_ ta 'er."

Mare almost rolled her eyes at that reminder. "In her defense, Lysee explained she and Kath Morgan just wanted to find out what it was like, and decided home was the safest place to try it. I give them credit for taking that precaution. Still, two teenage girls drunk on the living room floor isn't a sight anybody enjoys coming home to. To say nothing of what happened to the rug."

Jack set the bottle down on his thigh, suddenly clear-headed. "Might've been worth it, though. 'Tis been my experience that rum combined with wine produces a particularly fierce hangover."

Meredith did a flawless imitation of Mr. Norrington's dry inflection. "Indeed."

"So recollection of that unpleasantness jus' might make those lasses think twice, next time they're given opportunity ta overindulge... said 'next time' possibly occurring in a less-protected environment. Thus, theer seemingly-regrettable experiment jus' might save 'em from far more egregious consequences than a carpet-cleaning bill, eh?"

Lysee's mom dropped her eyes. Those possible 'egregious consequences' had long been haunting her nights. "I do hope you're right, Jack."

"I'm confident, darlin'. Indications indicate, Lysander absorbs the lessons from 'er mistakes. 'Could be argued that's preferable ta 'er not makin' any- she'll learn more."

"Maybe." Not for the first time, Mare marveled at Jack's apparent capacity to shake off the effects of alcohol at will (at least right up to the moment it knocked him out.) Perhaps his alleged 'unconventional ancestry' had something to do with it.

Sparrow hoisted the golden bottle again. "An' my second reason was: commiseratin' over a bit of shared rum might foster some better understandin' 'tweenst meself an' yer preternatural primate."

"How is that going?"

"Eh, still some crosswinds ta deal with." Georgette gurgled agreement, tail flailing like a cat's. "I've been inquirin' 'bout that scrape Barbossa rescued 'er from at theer first meetin'. But she's keepin' mum 'bout it." Jack regarded Mrs. Norrington speculatively. "Might be, you'd have better luck. Females're often more forthcoming 'mongst theer own."

"I could ask her. But if she insists I keep it confidential, I'll have to respect her wishes."

Jack pulled a disappointed moue. "Must've been some tight strait, ta earn him the critter's eternal gratitude... which, in this case, is a close-ta-literal description." Sparrow regarded the soused monkey through slit eyes. "Not so incidentally; has any of yer household had occasion yet, ta see her skeletonized self?"

Mare shook her head. "Georgette avoids moonbeams as scrupulously as a vampire avoids sunlight. I imagine she's been evicted from homes in the past, when the residents saw her in that mode."

"Likely enough! 'Probably took her fer a threat to theer livestock." Sparrow curled a sly lip. "Ya know, that orb is full tonight, an' as Georgette's agility is much diminished..."

"**No**, Jack." Mrs. Norrington's tone left no room for argument. "James has already assured her, we know about her 'condition' and won't exile her for it. Nor are we going to force the issue. Georgette will show us when she's confident enough."

The creature under discussion grumbled a bit. Sparrow addressed her with some disparagement. "I don't recall yer havin' and shortage o' confidence through our original acquaintanceship. 'Suppose that was influence of that blaggard owner of yers... Aye, I'll call him what he was!" Jack snapped in response to a brief primate glower. "Yer well aware that traitorous cur stole my ship- you were accessory to the offense! Both times!"

Georgette rolled her back towards him, as if trying to avoid a tiresome old argument. Sparrow suddenly looked melancholy. "Fer the longest while, I believed Barbossa was me friend... might be he was, at the start. 'Still hain't entirely clear ta me, how that course went awry. I don't imagine greed fer the Aztec treasure's the entire explanation, though that may've tipped the keel." He took a final slug of rum. Mare, recognizing a cathartic spiel, kept quiet and let him talk.

Sparrow bestowed another scowl on the oblivious monkey's back. "You made some contribution ta that accumulated nega-tiv-i-ty, ya know. I suppose I might bear a portion o' the blame, makin' all those threats ta chop ya up an' use ya fer fish bait. But that were jus' me way o' reminding yer caretaker ta keep you properly supervised! Ol' Hector had no just cause ta take the measures he did. Not by a long shot!"

Jack's wounded-doe eyes met Mare's. "'Swear upon my soul: I had no hint it was comin', prior to the night it occurred. 'Twas sheer luck I'd stayed up ta update some charts that eve. If I'd gone ta bed at me usual hour, they'da caught me in me altogether... Never suspected that lot took such strenuous objection ta my less-violent methods of piratin'. 'Tis true those may've cost us some swag, on occasion. But they'd also saved a bloody lot of bleedin'- on our side ez well! That should've counted fer somethin'!" He swung the bottle up again, looking disproportionately affronted when it turned out to be empty.

Mare decided to voice her own theory. "It's possible you overlooked something, Jack. Pirating tends to attract people in seriously deprived circumstances- men who've never had much, or who've lost everything they'd had. People in such straits tend to be unconcerned about inflicting suffering, on others or on themselves. Not when there's a possibility of real gain. You, in contrast, were never indifferent to the risks. Schemes and strategy- which you do possess rare talent for- were your preferred tools to get what you wanted. But whenever those proved insufficient, you would, as you've said, pass up the prize rather than resort to mayhem. Captain Sparrow always retained conviction that some lines should never be crossed.

"It's possible that, on some level, your crew knew what this indicated: somebody had taken the trouble to teach you a strong sense of ethics. Because they'd really cared what kind of man you'd turn out to be... because they loved you. Realizing this, even subconsciously, could've easily produced another breed of resentment. A green-eyed one. And I don't mean like James'."

Jack thoughtfully touched the knitted red band presently encircling his forehead. "I suppose it could've. Well... can't claim that was based on any erroneous assumption."

Mare spoke with great respect. "Your mother must have been an uncommonly courageous woman, to retain such values after all the tragedy and disappointments life had thrown at her. Chakori'd had occasion to observe the harshening effect shipboard life could have on men, and resolved it wouldn't happen to her son." Responding to a hunch, she added, "Not to her 'young bird of the sea'."

The ex-pirate bit his lip, blinking fast. "Wench, yer takin' unfair an' unseemly advantage of my semi-inebriated state!"

Perhaps fortunately, Georgette interrupted the moment. She rolled over again and tumbled, chittering, off the edge of the hay bale. Royal whimpered anxiously.

Mare quickly crossed the floor to gather up the twitching animal, draping the long tail over her shoulder. As Jack had so often seen her do for the infant Lysander, Mare rocked the little form gently, whispering reassurances. For an instant Sparrow experienced something truly preposterous; regret that Mare couldn't do as much for him.

"I think somebody's falling asleep." Meredith carried Georgette to her 'nest'- a wooden crate, lined with electric heating pads and old cushions, which James had installed on the wall above the feed barrels. For now, Mr. Norrington was firmly adhering to his assertion that a monkey's place was not inside the house.

Meredith carefully settled the critter onto a cushion, covering her with a scrap of wool blanket. The monkey grunted softly, yawning a toothy yawn as her eyes closed. Royal purposefully trotted over, curling up on the floor by the barrels.

"You'll be fine here. Royal will make sure the rats leave you alone." The dog confirmed with his usual tail wag. Mare gave both creatures affectionate pats, then turned to her guest. "You look ready for bed, too."

For once, Jack had no desire to exploit the possible double-entendre. "Yer makin' a convincing case, Mrs. Norrington."

She helped him to his feet, draping one of his arms over her shoulders in case support should be needed. They exited the barn together, calling a goodnight to the drowsy horses before switching off the lights.

Halfway across the cold grassy yard, Mare suddenly halted, staring upwards. "Will you look at that!" The moon, now high in the cloudless sky, was ringed with a wide, faint halo of misty white. "That's something you don't see in Capri!"

Sparrow eyed it knowingly. "Course not- tain't cold enough there. A 'moon ring' is produced by the refraction of moonlight off ice crystals in the upper atmosphere."

Mare smiled fondly. "'Always brings to mind that line from 'Judy Blue Eyes'... which, come to think of it, also reminds me of you."

Jack looked intrigued. "Refresh my memory, luv. What line is that?"

Mare sang softly:

_"Voices of the angels,_  
_Ring around the moonlight,_  
_Asking me, said he's so free-_  
_How can you catch the Sparrow?"_

"Ah, that 'un! Always liked it." Jack good-naturedly sang the next verse:

_"Lacy, lilting, leery,_  
_Losing love, lamenting-_  
_Change my life, make it right..._  
_Be my lady friend!"_

Mare gave his arm a small pinch. "You altered a word."

"As did you, in service of accuracy. Yer the type o' friend what makes a bloke's life better, Meredith Norrington."

"And you're the type who makes a person's life a lot more interesting."

"Fair exchange, then."

Two friends happily sang the nonsensical closing refrain, all the way back to the house:

_"Do do do do do, do do, do do do do!_  
_Do do do do do, do do, do do!_  
_Do do do do do, do do, do do do do!_  
_Do do do do do, do do, do do!"_

xxx

**FINIS**

xxx

_The first set of lyrics is from the Hebrides folksong 'Turn Ye To Me', lyrics by John Wilson, 1816._

_The later lyrics are from the rock song 'Suite: Judy Blue Eyes' composed by Stephen Stills, from the album Crosby Stills and Nash, 1969._

_My thanks to a couple of fellow writers- Peladonww for providing the original suggestion for this one-shot, and Sairra for the Jackian term 'hoofy beast.'_


	14. Chapter 14

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney._

_xxx  
_

"You haven't said anything about my hair, Jack."

"I thought 'twould be better manners ta let you broach that subject."

"What do you think about it? Really."

"Chit, I can't honestly say I consider that hue ta be any improvement."

"Well it wasn't supposed to come out this way- the package said 'Bright Purple'! I didn't think it would look like... like..."

"Like a plum rinsed in cow manure?"

"Yeah. That."

"Well, Lysee, I've never been a professional hairdresser, but I suspect dimestore hair dye isn't formulated ta combine well with your particular shade. Natural medium-copper-blonde is exceptional."

"Do you think I oughta let it grow back?"

"I would, if it were mine. General opinion regards your hair color ez one to change _to_, not _from_."

"But I wanna do something _different_ with it! Maybe... I've been thinking about putting it in dredlocks."

"Now theer's a matter on which I can speak with some expertise. I'd not advise it fer your hair texture; it's too fine-stranded. All too probably, ye'll end up with a few widely-spaced rattail mats."

"What would _you_ do, then?"

"Hmmm. Perhaps you could add some ornaments..."

"No barrettes- those are for little kids!"

"I had somethin' else in mind. You could try braidin' in a few small items. Preferably some what hold meanin' for ya. Souvenir pendants, coins..."

"Oh! Like you do when you wear your pirate costume?"

"Aye, theer's an example you could follow."

"That might be good. But, I'll haveta wait 'til my hair grows a little longer."

"Which means you'll have time ta locate an' prepare some appropriate objects, lass. If you've picked up any bonnie pebbles or snail shells on yer vacation trips, theer's establishments what can drill holes in 'em, so they're usable as hair beads."

"I like that idea!"

"'An' if yer dissatisfied with the way they look, you can always rearrange them. Or remove 'em entirely, unlike... ah..."

"Unlike my hideous disgusting-colored hair dye."

"'Twas you who said it, Lysander. Not me!"

xxx

**FINIS**


	15. Chapter 15

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney_

_xxx  
_

**Much To Be Thankful For**

"Theer is definitely somethin' to be said fer a genuine wood-burning fireplace, driving back a genuine chill."

Jack made this remark to James and Mare, comparing a certain gas-powered gadget in his Capri digs to the authentic article. The three humans (and a reclining Royal) were currently gathered around that feature in the Norrington's farmhouse. It was late November; Sparrow and Lysee were both there to celebrate Thanksgiving.

UK colleges did not routinely grant Thanksgiving breaks, but Lysander had applied for one "out of respect for my mother's cultural heritage." This was no deceit, for Meredith did hold joint British/ US citizenship. She might be a native-born Anglo, but, as James teasingly informed her, it was futile for her to try to pass for one. "Having learned to speak modern English in Florida, your accent has been corrupted beyond any hope of salvaging."

Lysee was not home at the moment. She'd left shortly after breakfast, to visit a couple friends she'd not seen since the Autumn semester began. But she'd promised to be back in plenty of time for dinner, along with Lizzie and Kath, who were interested in experiencing a traditional Thanksgiving feast. Jack's turkey stuffing and Mom's pumpkin pie were well worth showing off.

Sparrow smiled, recalling his last sight of that lass trotting down the driveway. Her hair had finally grown enough to trim off the last of that deplorable purple. Now she was trying Jack's suggestion to braid in trinkets, changing the items from week to week. For this holiday she was wearing a tiny white scallop she'd collected in a Cassis cove, plus a polished brown pebble from a college acquaintance, and an orange glass bead that looked seasonal.

The grownups were having a midmorning sit by the fireplace, getting a bit of rest before the food-preparation marathon. Jack discreetly studied his fire-lit friends, a bit saddened to note how plainly their age (nearing sixty) was showing. James was quite gray at the temples, Mare's copper tresses were strewn with silver, and both faces had lines and sags. Jack let his gaze stray higher, to the mantlepiece shelf. A much happier reminder was displayed there; the orange-and-green painted plate Lysee had purchased on her final day in Cassis.

"Yer chit made an admirable choice of souvenirs. That splash of color definitely picks up the room!"

"Indeed. It seems her judgment improved towards the end," James agreed dryly.

Jack made a face. "Don't you think it's a bit late ta be frettin' about that?"

"We're not 'fretting', Jack. Just mindful that you two took some real chances," Mare explained evenly. "But I'll admit your prediction was right; having that adventure seems to've settled Lysee down. She's doing fine at her studies. And her athletic endeavors! 'Made the school equestrian team, as you know. Her instructor tells us she'll probably be ready for her first show-jumping competition by next Spring."

"Which, I'm afraid, is going to postpone her scuba training," Dad mentioned.

Jack waved a few fingers. "'Tis no great concern- I can accept a rain check. 'Always knew that chit'd make somethin' of herself if she tried!"

James did not miss the new note of anticipation when Jack spoke about Lysee's future. He frowned within, still a shade uncomfortable about the 'revelation' he'd had the day Lysee and Sparrow returned from France. Though he hadn't mentioned anything to Mare, he suspected she'd deduced it for herself.

That lady and Jack were presently discussing the technicalities of show jumping. Left on his own, James thought back to his most-recent conversation with Mr. Murphy...

_"I have no doubt Jack loves her- he always has, in the familial sense. But I can't help feeling slightly apprehensive, knowing that he hopes their relationship will eventually... develop."_

_"You're not worried he'll try anything before she's of age."_

_"No. As I told myself on first discovery, if they're both adults it's really their own business. But I can't deny some concern. Jack's behavior with women has never been the most responsible. I, would like to be sure he'll handle this attraction differently... that he'd deny himself, rather than do anything to risk causing her heartache?"_

_He met his employer's deceptively dull gaze. James did understand the reasons why Murphy couldn't inform him about future events, general or personal. But every now and then, circumstances moved him to request a slight bending of the rules. Murphy had no trouble deducing this was one such occasion._

_The older man set his tea cup down, meeting James' pleading stare. He responded in that specific tone, indicating This Is All I Can Reveal:_

_"Your character assessment is accurate."_

_Norrington sagged. So, the worst would not happen. Jack held his daughter in too high a regard to exploit her- there'd be no 'loving and leaving'. James hadn't really thought it highly probable... still, it was reassuring to get this confirmation. More or less. "Thank you, sir." He took a large sip of his mocha, actually tasting it this time._

_There would still be pitfalls, of course. Misunderstandings, poor timing, any number of revealed incompatibilities. But of course, any of those could happen in any romantic relationship Lysander might have. As she almost certainly would. His little girl, now on the cusp of adulthood, was clearly not going to be the sort of woman who'd draw no male attention._

_The unavoidable truth was, James couldn't hope to shield his child from every sling and arrow. The best he and Mare could do was be watchful and supportive, as they waited to see how events would unfold. Just like every other parent who'd ever drawn breath..._

"James? Did you want to help explain this?"

Norrington shook himself. "My apologies, Mare- I was lost in thought. What were you saying?"

"I just told Jack, we have something important to tell him. Our plans for when Lysee's done with college."

"Ah, yes." James cleared his throat. "After careful consideration, Mare and I have set the approximate date for..."

"... yer first visit to the Fountain! About time!" the ex-pirate exclaimed with a hearty knee slap.

"Correct. Since avoiding discovery will require us to move, and since we want Lysee to be able to come home to this farm during holiday breaks, we intend to wait until she graduates. But after that..."

"I'd recommend doin' it on yer wedding anniversary, if that's arrangeable. Those waters can really put ya in the mood!" Jack was grinning broadly, teeth gleaming in the firelight. "Twill be most grand ta see the two of you in yer primes again."

"We are rather looking forward to it." Mare reached across their chairs to squeeze James' hand. He returned the pressure, suddenly feeling better about everything.

"Just don't be too disappointed by yer first view of it," Sparrow cautioned. "Now that you've finally decided, I can tell you. To the uninitiated eye the Fountain is naught but a brown-tinged weed-lined sump, 'bout the size of a four-person Jacuzzi. Hardly what any man or beast would prefer ta drink from, amongst so much cleaner-looking water."

"I suppose that's why Murphy's People established it in the Everglades. That must be one of the best places on earth to conceal a puddle," mused Mare.

"An' camouflage isn't it's only protective device. The thing is constantly changin' location! I realized that whilst making my first overland hike to reach it- my compass needle kept shiftin'. What made that particularly gallin' was, I couldn't always manage a direct approach. Not through all those irregularities- deep channels, dense brush, occasional unfriendly wildlife. Those Florida gators may be of lesser viciousness than theer Australian an' African relatives, but ya don't want ta pass too near the big 'uns. 'Bout a million biting insects, too!

"So I blundered through four changes of heading before I managed ta catch up prior to it's shiftin'. An' then it was jus' this tiny stagnant pond, in the midst of a cabbage-palm grove. I had doubts I'd actually found it 'til I leaned down ta have a taste. The water surface dropped from under my lips, exactly like the torment of Tantalus!"

James finally understood something. "That's why you kept relating that myth to your interrogators in the Hebrides."

"Aye! 'Twas one method of making a truthful reply which'd leave 'em none the wiser. But gettin' back to the Fountain: I figured I'd better abandon my efforts to drink before the water shrank away altogether, so I attempted other methods. Tried ta scoop some into my mouth- it leapt from my palms. Tried ta splash it in- the drops never landed. Tried ta suck it through an improvised straw- it refused ta budge past my lips.

"But I noted along the way, the pond seemed ta only be repelled by my mouth. I could submerge an arm or a foot, same as in any other water. So I tested the effects of immersion- removed all my clothes an' soaked in it like a bath. An hour later, the only change I'd noticed was that the water level was gradually droppin'- apparently sinkin' into the ground. Recallin' what trouble I'd had gettin' this far, I knew if I didn't deduce a way to ingest some before it vanished I might not get another chance fer a bloody long while!

"I snatched up my compass again, directing it ta locate a method of doin' so. The bloody arrow swung directly towards me! I moved it ta port and starboard- that heading held steady. From sheer lack of else ta do, I tried hefting it upwards an' down. That's when I noticed the particular way the disc was bobbing. I brought the compass close to my face, moved it from side to side. The arrow was pointing directly at my nose."

Jack paused to give his audience a change to figure it out. To judge from their expressions, they did so simultaneously, but James allowed his wife to say it.

"You can't take the Aqua de Vida by mouth. It has to be inhaled."

"Bingo, Meredith! So I lowered myself again, this time tilting my head way back 'til my nostrils submerged. And I snorted it in! 'Can't say I really enjoyed the feel of it flooding my nasal passages, or the weedy taste at the back of my throat. But the moment it reached my stomach I knew I'd got it right! I felt this wonderful glow- kinna warmin' an' coolin' at once- starting from there and radiating in every direction, towards the furthest reaches of my body. I lay theer fer about twenty minutes, lettin' it fill me all the way to my toenails and fingertips. Then I sprang up, spry and energized as a young whelp! Of course I looked meself over..." Jack grinned broadly. "Can't do adequate justice ta that most gratifying view! I envy you two, fer that moment you'll get ta experience it for the first time."

There was a muted thumping from the hearth. The ever-empathic Royal contributed a tail wag.

Mare snapped her fingers. "That reminds me! I wanted to ask how you persuaded Royal to take his dose."

"So yer plannin' ta bring him along?"

"That would be our first choice," replied James. "Lysee now understands how he's survived this long, so an additional life-extension won't give her any false impressions. And, we'd find it rather hard to relinquish him now."

"Since this will coincide with a relocation, this time we won't even have to 'lie by omission' when our neighbors comment on how much the new puppy resembles our late dog. Or when they advise us to explain to Lysee it's not really the same animal," commented Mare.

"No need ta justify it ta me," Jack assured. "To respond to yer inquiry: it required some persuasion. I had ta give the cur a thorough tummy-rubbin' ta make him keep position. Even then, it took several attempts before he swallowed some 'stead of sneezing it all out. But it was obvious when he'd done so. He started beating the air with his hind foot whilst emitting pleased little whines, the way dogs do when ya scratch 'em just right. Ten minutes later the critter twisted to his feet, leapt out with a mighty splash an' started boundin' everywhere, barkin' his fool head off. He felt too good ta keep it in!"

"Well, I'm looking forward to this even more!" Meredith exclaimed. Royal sat up, pushing his head into her lap to have his ears scratched.

"Might I inquire if you two've made any plans fer afterwards?"

"A few," James answered. "We could do those more-interesting Missions for a year or two. Assuming we survive, after that we intend to..."

"...have another whelp!"

Norrington sniffed at this latest interruption, but let it go. "I guess that's no surprise revelation. The redoubtable Mr. Murphy informs us, he can provide reliable means for us to choose the baby's gender. We'd both like to have a boy next time- we can use the rest."

"And we've already chosen a name." Mare's eye twinkled. "We're going to call him Geoffrey, after a certain third-cousin of mine."

One second later, Sparrow got it. "So you _are_ related ta _that_ Chaucer!"

"I never actually laid eyes the man, but yes."

"Any reason you didn't mention this before? At least not around me!" Jack's eyes snapped to James. "Though I suppose you were privy to this, ya shifty Commodore!"

"Since the day before our wedding," James smirked.

"An' you made no more mention of it!"

"It's like a birthmark in a private place: there's a certain satisfaction to being the only one who knows about it."

Jack ignored the smugness. "Then perchance this whelp'll be of a literary bent, eh?"

"That will also be a relaxing change. Which reminds me..." Meredith stretched in her chair, "...we should get started on dinner soon."

That brought another matter to Jack's agile mind. "Did I mention I've found a verra fine recipe fer rum-cranberry sauce?"

"You did. And you may recall what I said about it."

Sparrow's visage fell into a pout. "Oh, yeah. 'You can make half of it that way, half the usual way.' I'm a bit disappointed by yer indifference to originality, Mare."

"Originality is a generally admirable trait. But when it comes to holidays, it's got one big drawback: it lacks any power to evoke memories. And holidays derive much of their meaning from evoked memories."

"As you'll probably experience for yourself, when Mare brings out her usual array of pies," James added.

That brightened Jack's mood. "I suppose theer is somethin' ta that view." Royal panted happily. He also liked pie.

Norrington continued. "The yeast rolls, in contrast, _should_ be different from last year's effort. I have practiced since then- I'm now aware I must let them rise for more than three minutes."

"Good ta know." Jack tapped a finger against his chin. "It occurs ta me, cousin, that yer experience as a midshipman might possibly assist yer preparin' of the chopped-fruit salad."

That certainly hadn't occurred to James. "How so?"

"You received training ta be a cannoneer then, did you not?"

"Yes...?"

"An' don't naval gun crews tend ta work in_ pears_?"

Mare laughed wickedly. James glowered like a thundercloud.

"We'd better repair to that kitchen right now, while I still have some appetite left!"

xxx


	16. Chapter 16

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney._

xxx

**INTERVIEWS**

**The Future Operative**

"Sure I know about the first Lysander! He was the Spartan general who beat the Athenians in the Peloponnesian War, in 406 BC. Supposed to've been worshiped as a god after he died in battle. But I'm not named after him."

_Who are you named for?_

"An ancestor of my Dad's who got killed in the Battle of Agincourt. According to the family legend, Lysander Norrington deliberately sacrificed himself to save King Henry- he jumped to take an arrow just as it was about to hit the King. But Dad's said that's not necessarily what happened; he might've just stepped in the way by accident. But it's a good story, so it got passed down the generations and started a family tradition of naming the oldest sons 'Lysander'. When Dad's branch of the family became Quakers they thought it was too warlike, so they started using it as a middle name. Like my Dad's. When I was born my folks decided it was okay to revive the original tradition since Spartan leaders aren't household names anymore. 'Cept maybe Agamemnon."

_You don't mind having a masculine name?_

"It's not like many people know that's what it is. They just say, 'What a pretty name!' Or, 'What an unusual name!' Which is even better!"

_It seems you have a preference for standing out._

"You'd better believe it!"

_That would explain the unconventional hair style._

"It's neat, isn't it? I can make it look different every week by braiding in new stuff. Jack gave me the idea."

_Meaning Jack Sparrow._

"Yeah- the coolest guy I know! He's real hot-looking too, but don't tell him I said that; I don't want him to think I'm crushing on him. But he really is cool! All my friends think so. And he got me the best combined birthday an' Christmas present _ever_!

_What was that?_

"My own show jumper! Don't get me wrong- I love Pirate, my older horse, but she's not a jumper. So when I started riding competitively Jack went shopping for a jumper, and when he found this stallion named 'Flying Dutchman' he had a feeling that was the one for me, an' he was so right- that horse can almost fly! I'll be competing in the Nationals next year- if I place there, I could make the UK Olympic team. Even an alternate slot would be really cool!"

_Were you planning to begin your career as an Operative after that?_

"I hope! But that's an 'Invitation Only' job, so the starting date isn't up to me. Mom says, when Mr. Murphy thinks I'm ready he'll just show up, and mention something a stranger couldn't possibly know about. That's how it happened with her and Dad and Jack. There's no telling when I'll get the tap, but I'm not worried 'cause I've got other things to do in the meanwhile. Jack's promised to take me on a really special dive trip in the Caribbean, soon as I've had enough scuba experience to do deep dives."

_Your folks aren't concerned?_

"Naww, they trust him. Jack _is_ Mom and Dad's cousin by marriage. He gets on their nerves sometimes- 'specially Dad's- but they never stay mad at him for long. A lot of people who talk about being BFFs don't really mean it, but they really are."

_Have they always been?_

"No way! Dad said he and Jack used to be enemies, a long time ago. I think they must've been really bad ones 'cause Dad's never told me much about it. If you want to know any details you'll have to ask him."

x

**The Once And Present Commodore**

"Certainly my relationship with Sparrow has undergone some fundamental shifts over the years. Our first encounter was that of mortal enemies- not for personal reasons so much as circumstantial ones. I was an agent of the Law, he a member of that criminal strata I was duty-bound to eradicate. I could not shirk that responsibility just because this particular criminal displayed some redeeming traits."

_What traits were those?_

"A sense of chivalry, for one. I first encountered Captain Sparrow immediately after he'd rescued a young woman from drowning. Not long afterwards he assisted, however self-servingly, in the elimination of a far more serious pirate threat than himself. I, can't deny I experienced a certain degree of relief, when he made a characteristically flamboyant escape from my attempt to hang him. Though subsequent events rehardened my attitude."

_Then that deferred execution did not mark the beginning of your friendship._

"It did not. Further efforts to apprehend him cost me my command vessel, my status and my self-respect. Then, as now, I can not put the entire blame on Jack; the bulk of it lies with my own reckless decision to try pursuing him through some highly inclement weather. None the less, the disaster revived my hostility towards Sparrow, and my experience serving as a tar aboard his ship did nothing to mitigate it. The animosity waned only after I learned, from very harsh experience, that even greater evil could exist on the 'right' side of the law. My penance for assisting that evil cost me everything I had to give."

_Temporarily._

"As it turned out. No words can adequately describe what I felt upon waking, centuries afterwards... finding myself alive, and thoroughly displaced, with that maddening pirate responsible for both circumstances! But I must give him credit for his guidance through a most formidable period of adjustment. I felt like Dante to his Virgil, though the new landscape was short of infernal, and got ever more-agreeable with time.

"As I regained my health and sense of belonging, our relationship became similar to that of college roommates, one of whom is far more familiar with the campus. Jack was eager to pursue a variety of activities with me, perhaps because, through my eyes, the world regained some sense of freshness for him. Discovering we were cousins by marriage didn't make any great difference; we'd already become something like brothers... with the position of 'eldest' subject to reversal. By the time I left to attend the Coast Guard Academy, we'd established the kind of connection which could weather some storms. And might have to. I was aware even then, there'd likely be experiences in our future which would test that bond to it's limit."

_Apparently it passed the test._

"Indeed. To quote Dickens, 'The best steel must go through the fire', and our mutual abduction was something of a shared 'trial by fire'. Throughout our incarceration, each of us was the only positive element in the other's life. And there was another aspect. The pirate I'd originally known might well have sold information about the Fountain, for a high enough price. But over the years Jack had developed some sense of integrity- enough to appreciate how vital it was to keep the location secret. I became, to an extent, the guardian of that integrity; assisting and supporting his resistance however I could. Nobody could emerge from such an experience unchanged. Since then, I've never doubted Jack will do the right thing when it truly matters. This has greatly increased my regard for the man."

_How would you describe your current relationship?_

"At present, we are coworkers, comrades in arms, and family in the most meaningful sense of the word. Certainly we've impacted each other's characters. Through the first years of our reacquaintance, Sparrow was always engaged in a few mildly illegal pursuits, apparently just to keep his oar in. But he seems to have gradually lost interest in doing so. I like to believe that's due to my influence."

_And how has he changed you?_

"He's taught me a great deal about how to derive more enjoyment from life. Admittedly, part of the credit for that belongs to Meredith. Not that I'm going into detail!"

_One suspects you must be unlucky at cards._

"Because I've been lucky at love? Yes, following a false start or two! My marriage has undergone the usual ups and downs, but on the whole I consider myself an uncommonly fortunate man. And not just due to the... conjugal benefits. Mare is adept at providing that particular comfort which... that is, certain Missions would take a far higher toll on me, if I didn't have her to come home to."

_What Missions are those?_

"The ones where I'm obliged to permit a certain amount of death or suffering to occur. Mr. Murphy has told me outright, he assigns those jobs to me because he can trust me to carry them out as instructed. As I do. But that doesn't mean I experience no repercussions afterwards. That's when I'm most grateful to have Mare's special support."

_Have you ever refused such a Mission?_

"No. These are necessary tasks; it would be unworthy to shift the burden onto someone else. Furthermore, I'm not the sole bearer. Murphy once described the role an Operative of his played in the Sand Creek Massacre- have you heard of that?"

_That occurred in 1864 Colorado, during the 'Indian Wars'._

"And was an atrocity, even by the standards of that era. A 700-man American Cavalry unit, under the command of one Colonel John Chivington, attacked an encampment of Cheyenne and Arapaho people beside that Creek. This settlement had been authorized by the US Government, as indicated by their flying of an American flag, and consisted mostly of women, children and old men. None of which mattered to Chivington. At his order, the soldiers slaughtered over a hundred of these defenseless people. But their most prominent leader, Black Kettle, was not among the casualties. He was away at the time."

_Because the aforementioned Operative had arranged for him to be safely absent?_

"She had. And, I'm told, tendered her resignation immediately afterwards, being so unsettled about leaving the others to die. I can certainly empathize! Murphy added, he regretted losing her services but couldn't blame her for having limited understanding. 'No human can really comprehend the role events- even terrible ones- play in the larger pattern of your planet's history. You are, yourselves, components of that pattern, so cannot see how it looks from the outside.' I mentioned, a number of religious philosophers have commented on this very matter... have speculated that we may be granted that outside view, and understanding, after we die. Murphy replied, he wasn't going to comment on how his people or their manipulations might fit into any theological theories. That's a matter they leave strictly up to us."

_Even on this side of death, working for these beings must expand your personal perspectives._

"Constantly! To site one example: upon completing a Mission I often wonder what course history would've taken, had the change not been made. And whether, perhaps, the original version of the altered Timeline might still exist, as an 'alternative universe'. If so, there must be a great many of these. Do they affect each other in any way? Can they rejoin... or collide? What would the results be? Mutual annihilation? Jumbled chaos? Or maybe the realities would merge so seamlessly, none of the residents would realize anything had happened. If the latter, it's possible such merging has already occurred, any number of times. Perhaps universes are like water droplets on a shaken metal sheet; constantly separating and merging, separating and merging."

_Murphy's People might know._

"Possibly. Though, being residents themselves, they may also be limited to speculating about it. My employer is the first to admit, his kind aren't omnipotent. They're just disembodied beings trying to safeguard the Timelines as best they can."

_Disembodied?_

"So Meredith tells me. You know, I don't ask Murphy nearly as many questions as I might like to; I was raised to consider that ungentlemanly. But Mare is considerably less inhibited about doing so. If you want to learn more about Murphy's People, you should talk to her."

x

**The Gallant Lady**

"I have confidence in Mr. Murphy's truthfulness, because I've never detected any falsehood in anything he's said in my presence. Or even any ambivalence... which, by the way, is unique in my experience. If I ever encounter anyone else who can speak with such certainty, I'll peg 'em as another of Murphy's People."

_Isn't that name your own invention?_

"It is. Because I need to call them _something_, and these beings don't have any 'name' in the sense we mean. Nothing that can be produced by sound vibrations or written language- more like a fragment of themselves. But as they recognize the human need to have labels for things, they'll accept whichever title we choose to give them."

_Do you get the impression Murphy, or any of his fellows, are fond of their Operatives?_

"I believe they're appreciative of our services, but not really 'fond'. Consider the relationship from their perspective: they are the eons-old Shepherds of the Timelines, we're their useful but short-lived sheepdogs. They're obliged to select, train, direct, and inevitably lose an endless succession of new dogs, so it wouldn't do for them to get very attached. If they even can! Being entirely different life forms, I doubt they have the same set of emotion capabilities."

_As they're nonhumans, how can you be certain your special 'truth sense' reads them accurately?_

"Strictly speaking, I can't be. But that body Murphy inhabits is an actual human one, equipped with a normal vocal apparatus, so that's how I'd bet."

_Do you know how Murphy acquired a human body?_

"According to him, it was a contribution from an Operative who'd lived three lifetimes and decided that was enough. The man agreed to vacate slightly early- IE; while the body was still in good condition- in return for certain considerations being shown to his descendants. Murphy says, his people always make lots of neurological alterations to such a 'host' body, to prevent aging and to remove all traces of the original occupant. They don't want to be affected by infirmaries, hormones, moods- any of those bothersome distractions. Make no mistake; inhabiting a body doesn't turn them into humans. It's more comparable to slipping on a bunny sock puppet, to assist communication with the real bunnies."

_Is it possible you'll be making such a donation someday?_

"Murphy nixed that idea before I'd asked. He said nobody in our group would be a preferred candidate because we're all too attractive. Good-looking people are more likely to be noticed and remembered, which is just what Murphy's People strive to avoid. The guy you passed on the street without noticing is the guy most likely to be one of _them_."

_Do you know if Murphy's People follow this body-inhabiting procedure on other populated worlds?_

"I _did_ ask him about that. He told me there's no one-size-fits-all method for dealing with sentient beings. 'Your galaxy isn't at all as portrayed on _Star Trek_, packed full of minor variants of yourselves. There's more diversity of living and semi-living forms than you could possibly comprehend. Determining the best ways to deal with them all is endlessly challenging, even for us. We have to study each species for an extended period- sometimes millennium- to determine the most efficacious methods. We might even decide to leave a situation alone if it's hopelessly precarious, or, at the other extreme, too stable to require any management. But those are the exceptions.'"

_Are Operatives ever sent on Missions to other worlds?_

"Hmmm... That seems improbable, if humans are so completely different from anything else out there. Recreational visits might be permitted- carefully controlled, of course. I can only guess, since I've never thought to ask about it. Though I wouldn't be surprised if Jack has. That man is always itching to go somewhere new, and he's running short of places on this planet."

_He's a restless spirit?_

"You'd better believe it. Jack is like a cat; never content to remain in one place for any length of time! But he's not totally without homing instincts- he turns up at our farm at least once a month. Murphy says, he's been behaving more responsibly on Missions since our move to Cornwall, so he can earn the maximum number of Corridor-use points."

_That sounds rather contradictory._

"As is Jack Sparrow. You'll need to speak with him face-to-face, to appreciate how much so..."

x

**The Former Pirate**

"Aye, I've made certain inquiries pertainin' ta that. I'm informed Murphy's People do have Corridors between the planets theer keepin' herd over, an' that some of those planets have oceans! 'Twould be a grand fine thing ta be the first earthling ta get a gander at one of those- maybe even sail it! Murphy says I'll have ta accumulate plentiful seniority points before I'll be eligible fer that kind of voyage, but I've got time, eh? I'm but a lad yet!"

_Referring to the Fountain; you're taken many treatments there, and received a bonus gift each time. Will you eventually become something of a Super Being?_

"Well, not necessarily- those improvements don't all have staying power. Theer was a time in the mid-1800s when I my hearin' was sharp ez a shark tooth- that's fallen back ta normal limits. But my professional-quality singin' voice is still aboard. The irregular pattern does keep things interestin'."

_Is there any bonus gift you'd particularly like?_

"Theer is, but it's a bit personal."

_Any less-personal ones?_

"Let's see... 'Twould be most useful ta be able ta assess someone's trustworthiness from their scent. I know the Aqua Vita can grant such acuity, 'cause that's where Royal acquired his."

_How about 'truth sense', such as Meredith's?_

"Fair Mare's talent is also admirable- saved all our arses more 'en once! But it has a limitation: 'works strictly through the hearing apparatus. Mare has ta wait fer a subject ta say somethin', whereas Royal can take a reading before a body's even come inta sight."

_Have you ever utilized Royal's ability on a Mission?_

"There's been many a time we could've used him, but 'tis risky havin' animals along. Even the brightest of 'em can't understand the protocols of time travel. If Royal ever strayed an' had ta be 'neutralized', certain parties at home would be most upset. Not least of all that _primate donna_ Georgette. When monkey ain't happy, ain't nobody happy!"

_Speaking of Georgette..._

"If we must."

_You've a theory about where she spent the years following Barbossa's demise?_

"'Tis only a conjecture, mind you. I speculate that, havin' lost her master fer good, she made her way ta the mainland of Central America- the forests theer are a capuchin's natural habitat. No travel obstacle, including gettin' killed, would've delayed her fer long. But once arrived she couldn't fit into normal monkey society, on account of the change she undergoes in moonlight. Wild critters tend ta be most intolerant of anomalies."

_Do you suppose she was ever a normal monkey?_

"No way ta know, mate. Hector only mentioned he'd snaked her out of 'dire circumstances'- he offered no specifics an' I never asked. But evidence suggests those 'circumstances' had an unnaturalizing effect. Fer as long as I've known that simian she's been able ta comprehend human speech, which might account for her preferrin' the company of our species over her own. More 'en likely, she's spent the last couple centuries tryin' ta find a bloke comparable ta Barbossa. Might've succeeded any number of times... at least 'til her new _amigo_ got a gander at her in a moonbeam."

_And you theorize such glimpses might account for the legend of the Chupacabra._

"'Tis a feasible explanation, eh? Her decomposed self bears strong resemblance ta that fell beastie's description! But the allegations about it's penchant fer sucking blood from livestock might be pure embellishment. 'Least Georgette's not committed any such mistreatment of her current barn mates. That whole lot gets along like a sprawl of inebriates."

_Is there any possibility her Curse could someday be lifted?_

"That might be doable. I could teach her ta use a custom-fitted diving apparatus, an' use my_ especial_ compass ta locate the relevant underwater artifacts. I've been thinkin' of putting that proposition to her, jus' to let her know she's got a choice about remainin' Undead. 'Seems the bulk of immortals tire of it eventually."

_How about you?_

"I'm exceptional. Ever notice?"

_Is there no aspect of the next life you'd regret missing?_

"There are certain folk on the other side that I'd not mind seein' again. Liz an' Will, and Mum. Josh Gibbs, maybe my Da. An' definitely Bootstrap! That bloke paid a hellish price fer avenging my marooning, fer which I've never made proper thanks. 'Tweren't even the first time Bill put his neck on the line fer me."

_Where did you first meet Bootstrap?_

"Aboard the _Manicore_- the freighter I stowed aboard jus' after my encounter with Beckett's purgatorial branding iron. When I was discovered, the Captain was all set on givin' me twenty of the best. But bo'sun Turner persuaded him, I was jus' a green lad who'd only require six with a knotted rope ta learn my lesson. As floggings go that's practically a joke- Bootstrap didn't even swing his hardest. Bein' appreciative of his merciful nature, I stuck by that man 'til the _Manicore_ docked at Port Royale. By which time I'd persuaded him ta jump ship an' turn pirate with me. Those two years we sailed together were good uns... Aye, I'd be glad ta share a few words with Bill. But I'd rather it didn't require permanent relocation."

_Are there any aspects of living forever you're concerned about? Such as outliving everyone you know?_

"Well mate, that may or may not happen. 'Tis too early ta know what James' an' Mare's long-term inclinations'll be. Even if they decide against, I am harboring hopes regardin' someone else. A particular individual who's showin' signs of bein' of the same persuasion as meself- never tirin' of being alive. Why should she? Theer's no end of new horizons out theer!"

_So you think you- perhaps both of you- might someday be traveling to other worlds?_

"That is my fondest expectation! But I'm sayin' no more fer now- don't want ta jinx it. You've permission ta ask me again, about a century from this date..."

xxx

**TBC...**


	17. Chapter 17

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney._

xxx

_This chapter is rated PG-13 for some mild nudity and sensuality._

x

Floridian sun cast slanted afternoon rays onto the flat saw-grass landscape, dotted with scattered islands of cabbage palms and mahogany trees. And onto one unclothed young body reclining on a heart-shaped mound of much softer grass. Jack was air-drying his nearly unblemished skin. His just-finished bath had eliminated the last traces of lash marks, bullet scars, forearm burn and eyebrow slash. Only a single flaw remained: the vague etching of the ancient P brand. Sparrow felt no regrets. He was in a mood to make a fresh start.

The sunbather stretched, turning onto his side. Luxuriating in the usual post-Fountain sensations... or lack thereof. Every joint and vertebra was supple and ache-free, his skin smooth and taunt across face and torso, his hair full and dark with a trace of natural wave. Areas surrounding the Aqua de Vida tended to assume the ambiance of nudist colonies, since newly-emerged users couldn't get enough of viewing the results. It helped that this was the Everglades' only gator- and bug-free zone. Murphy's People didn't want any wildlife contaminating the water chemistry.

Sparrow half-rose on one elbow to take another gander along his length. Lean, bronzed, sleekly muscled. He rather hoped _she_ would like the look of it when she came out. Jack glanced towards the nearest mahogany grove. Lysander would be in there longer than usual, since she was also giving Royal his treatment. But she'd certainly be done before nightfall.

Jack eased back onto the soft grass bed, letting his mind drift. A warm breeze stirred his hair, setting him to pondering the dream he'd had last night... one he'd experienced several times before.

There'd been a period in Jack's history when nightmares had been such a frequent plague, he'd suspected he was under a curse. They'd started easing off when James Norrington came back into his life- no coincidence, Jack was sure. And after Meredith, and then Lysee, joined them, the problem ceased almost entirely. Almost.

Last night's recurring dream had never been among his worst- faint praise indeed! It was about a real event- actually something of a nonevent- which'd occurred in his original lifetime. During Elizabeth Turner's tenure as Pirate King, some blaggard Count had stolen an important artifact from Shipwreck Cove... Morgan's sextant, if he recalled right. Liz had requested the _Black Pearl's_ assistance overtaking the thief's ship, the _Raven_, to get it back. Which they had, with hardly any trouble. The Count had fired a single ineffective shot from a chaser cannon as the _Pearl_ closed in- that'd been the worst of it.

In the dream version, one crucial bit always happened differently. Just as Sparrow maneuvered his ship alongside the surrendering _Raven_, that one shot passed close enough to scour him with grapeshot, inflicting injuries Jack survived just long enough to make his farewells to a weeping Elizabeth. Whereupon he was delivered into the kindly keeping of Will Turner, the then-master of the _Flying Dutchman_.

So the dream had always played, but last night's version had lasted a crucial minute longer. Captain Turner had informed Jack he needn't cross over yet. Will spoke of the powerful service Sparrow had done him a few years ago. In return for a certain sacrifice, Jack had acquired an unusual Christmas present for Elizabeth: a specially-powered mirror. Through this, Liz and Will had been able to see and speak with each other, for one precious minute. Just long enough to provide Will his very first look at their recently-born son.

"I told you then, Jack, that you had the gratitude of the Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_. Now you'll learn what that's worth. I can grant you a special boon- return you to the _Pearl_ the moment before that fatal shot was fired. This time you'll notice the cannon muzzle in time to dodge the line of fire. It will be allowed, just this once, because there are powers who believe Jack Sparrow has more living to do. If that's what you wish. Do you?" Jack had promptly answered in the affirmative.

Then the dream dissolved around him, and he'd awakened with a familiar Everglades excursion ahead of him.

Sparrow frowned at this recollection. None of his other repeating dreams, good or bad, had ever felt quite so real. It made him wonder... could those 'powers' Will referred to possibly be Murphy's People? Bloody hell, had that dissembling whelp known Jack's destiny, and breathed no word of it, though all those years after his return...?

Hearing someone approach, Jack gracefully rose into a sitting position. A sturdily built young Korean-American man was making his way towards the grass mound, folded clothes protruding from the top of his canvas shoulder bag. Sparrow took a moment to adjust to his protégé's new appearance; the yellowish skin pulled taunt over toned muscles, the fashionable shoulder-length hair now a solid black.

"You 'young up' really good, Hyo!"

"I know! I mean, thank you, Captain." The now-lad gave him a delighted grin. Hyo Richards had been recruited in middle age, so was getting his initial Fountain treatment early in his tenure. Typically, he was quite bedazzled by the effects. Jack smiled too, recalling his own first dip.

The pirate checked the time from the sun, shooting another glance towards the grove. "I suppose Lysee and her mini-menagerie went in, soon as you came out?"

"Yes she did!" Hyo, who'd displayed a puckish quality even in his fifties, was almost boyishly excited about meeting Lysander Bose Norrington. "Do you think we might be doing Missions with her sometime?"

"'Tis possible. Depends on what talents are called for. I gather you'd like to?"

"I would. Mr. Murphy told me what she did in '75."

Sparrow swelled visibly. Lysee's execution of that most challenging and vital Mission had made her something of a legend amongst Operatives, and Jack had played a major role preparing her for it. "Always knew that lass'd do her family name proud! Even when she were a whelpess."

Hyo set his bag beside Jack's at the mound's edge, then joined him to sit in the middle. His wide hands stayed in motion, eagerly prodding his own restored musculature. "How long have you known Ms Norrington?"

"Since she was two days old. Her Mum and Da were my best mates, an' I knew what stuff they were made of! Though it was during our summer trip through France when the lass really started ta bloom... Now jus' put that smirk away, Mr. Richards! She was sixteen, intent on havin' a pre-college adventure. I came along ta act as her tour guide an' bodyguard, an' I performed both functions honorably." Jack's tone was stern. He'd damned well proved his love for Lysander was as selfless as that ever came, so didn't like anyone casting even vague aspersions on it.

"My apologies. I didn't realize you were talking about her teen years." Hyo was polite to a fault, except when dealing with adversaries- Sparrow had seen more than one fall to the Korean's right hook. "I hope you and Ms Norrington enjoyed that excursion."

This reminder restored Jack's good humor. "Aye. 'Twas traditional sightseeing mixed with a bit of fence-jumpin'." He paused, recalling a favorite moment; Lysee racing a moonlit horse alongside his own, both of them laughing from sheer joy of living. "After that she did fine in college. Got into show jumping, proved ta be a natural. Five years later she rode for Great Britain in the Olympics. That admirable nag of hers, Flying Dutchman, did his best-ever run an' they took Bronze. And yes, I'm aware they finished that high only 'cause several of the favorites had uncharacteristic stumbles. But such has always been the fortunes of the Games."

"I'll take your word for it. That was a little before my time."

"'Twas a most gratifying triumph... with one downside," Jack admitted with a wince. "During that competition Lysee met a replacement rider on the French team, Amaury Coté. Charmin' rich SOB, who figured he might as well snatch up the nine-day 'media darling' who'd come out of nowhere to medal. They had a whirlwind courtship, married three months later. No one other 'en herself believed it would last. Beyond rare good looks, an' love of all things equine, those two had virtually nothing in common! Lysee hadn't exactly grown up impoverished, but her folks'd never let her take it for granted- taught her she should give something back for her privileges, an' be mindful of them who had less. Amaury had been overindulged since the womb, considering it only his due. Expected everything ta be handed to him, had nothing but disdain fer those born inta lesser circumstances. Treated his staff shabbily, too. Entirely unworthy of her!" Jack almost spat in disgust.

Hyo regarded his mentor with that familiar sharp-soft stare. "You'd rather it'd been you?"

Sparrow shook his head, sunglints dancing along his curled locks. "Not at that juncture. Theer was a significant generational difference 'tween Lysee and meself back then. I knew the only way ta bridge it was ta let her log a minimum quota of life experiences, positive an' otherwise. Even includin' an ill-considered marriage that fell apart in two years an' left her sour on men a lot longer 'en that.

"But 'tis been said, 'The flowers of character are best watered by tears of adversity.' 'Seems the lessons she learned from that mistake were the last criteria she needed ta make Operative. One week after the divorce, Mr. Murphy approached with introductions an' a job offer." Jack smirked, recalling Lysee's account. "He made his move outside an ice cream establishment- referred to the occasion she'd dyed her hair purple. To this day she likes ta have a commemorative raspberry-passionfruit sorbet on the anniversary."

Hyo also looked cheerful. "Murphy sidled up to me in a transmod-upgrade waiting room- told how I'd proposed to Eun on the Golden Gate Bridge."

"I was takin' in the view from a fishing pier. This old coot in a gray wool hat wandered up an' started describing the time I body-slamming Barbossa into a Guadeloupe harbor." Every Operative had a 'first meeting' story. "Anyways, fer a decade afterwards Lysander threw herself into her work, to the exclusion of almost all else. She developed a rare knack for situational assessment an' dealing with unexpected complications. 'Daresay I can claim some credit fer that. Once she'd got over bastard Amaury she had relationships with the normal number of blokes, but, having learned ta check the coast carefully before making landing, she didn't marry any of 'em. Missions remained her primary focus... until she met Dakshi Bose. I played some small role in that, too."

"Deliberately?"

Sparrow's mustache twitched. "Let's just say, I underestimated how well the two of 'em would mesh. Dak was cut from her very cloth; a fine brave spirit, always ready to drop everything ta go on another adventure, yet possessin' a strong sense of responsibility. He'd also come through an ill-judged first marr-i-age, took away the same lessons. Lysander an' Dak's union was just about all it should've been, notwithstandin' their one disappointment..." Jack checked himself. Lysee's disfunctional uterus was a private matter. For different reasons, he also refrained from mentioning how long he'd felt ambiguous about Lysee's finding a soul mate who wasn't him- a response he wasn't proud of. "They made each other happy. I'll always think highly of Dak fer that." Jack's expression slumped into regret.

Hyo folded arms over his knees. "What happened?"

"A ridiculously mundane tragedy. Dak was takin' an after-dinner constitutional when he got run down by a kid sending a tonal. Theer's sound reason fer those public streamers advisin' folk not ta do that while drivin'! 'Twas a great sorrow to everyone who'd known him. Hurt Lysee most of all... she'd also lost her last sibling, just a few months prior. But the lass has made valiant efforts ta get on with her life. 'Says he'd want her to, just as she'd of wanted him to, if she'd gone first."

Jack grimaced at the very thought. His own grief had been real- for an admirable man killed before his time, as well as for his beloved's beloved. So he'd willingly taken on the role of Supportive Older Brother throughout her compounded mourning period. _Nobody_ was going to dishonorably snare Lysander on the rebound. Least of all himself!

But that was four years ago. By now, Lysee should be able to make decisions with an unclouded mind. His hope was restored... though, as before, he mustn't assume anything.

"In the meanwhile, her folks pursued theer own lives. 'Soon as Lysee finished college, James an' Mare took theer first treatment at the Fountain, then spent several years doin' High an' Medium Haz Missions. Once they'd got theer fill of those, they carried out theer long-planned ambition ta have a boy child. Or two!" Sparrow added cheerily. "Geoffrey and Jacob both took after theer uncle of the latter name; studious levelheaded chaps with IQs in the top percentile. Dutiful sons, husbands an' fathers, who excelled in theer chosen fields an' made valuable contributions to society. Offspring to be proud of, fer sure."

Hyo arched both brows. That gesture lost no meaning on his newly youthful face. "I sense a 'but' coming up."

"But: they lacked that particular daring and adventurousness what's required ta make a good Operative. Of course they knew about the family vocation- both contributed a bit of 'ground work'. But they preferred ta leave Missions to their Big Sis. Eventually they went into other professions entirely. Jeff became a professor of 20th Century Literature at New Oxford University- he certainly had the ancestral credentials fer such a discipline. Jake... as you're a fusion engineer, you've probably heard of him."

"Of course! Jacob Norrington was one of the three MIT Profs nominated for the Nobel Science Prize for their work on hydrogen cells."

"Aye! Might've won it, too, if they hadn't been nominated the same year as Jiayi Lin."

"Dr. Lin's atmospheric converters _are_ what made the Bradbury Colony possible."

Sparrow noted the anticipation in Hyo's voice when he mentioned the Colony. Mr. Richards, a lifelong space enthusiast, had repeatedly applied to visit that in-progress Martian settlement. But medical exams had established that, despite his overall fitness, his cardiovascular system was too aged to safely make the adjustments between Terrestrial and Martian gravities. Well, that obviously wasn't going to be a problem now. (Jack wasn't planning to visit Mars until the surface reformers had established a lot more water-cover. A planet without oceans was just too alien for him.)

"I don't mean to imply the prize was misawarded. Jus' mentionin' it was a stiff competition that year. But even if Jake'd won, such achievements don't earn a bloke Fountain rights. He an' Jeff didn't even particularly want to use it. They both declared themselves content ta receive the normal allotment of years, an' that's what they got." Sparrow's tone could be described as matter-of-fact sadness. "Jeff passed on a bit prematurely. When he was sixty seven, he an' his missis were killed in a hover-pod crash. Jake went naturally... made it to eighty-eight before one too many of his innards failed, an' he signed the _Do Not Resuscitate_ order.

"This had a most grievous effect on theer parents. Seems outlivin' yer own children- even them what've died of old age- takes the heart out of you as few things can. Mare an' James still loved their grand kids an' great-grand kids, but that lot didn't provide much sense of connection. They all took after theer brainy, stolid, non-Operative fathers... 'twas like they resided in a different world."

Jack's jaw worked a bit, as he got to the truly traumatic part of the narrative. "Not long after Jacob's funeral launch, Mare an' James tendered theer resignations ta Mr. Murphy. They'd accumulated plentiful water-use bonuses, so I thought they'd just decided ta give normal livin' a try. When they delayed theer next opportune-scheduled treatment, I thought they were just lettin' it slide a bit. 'Might be I simply didn't want ta read the weather signs.

"So I got a considerable shock when James an' Mare summoned me to theer residence, sayin' they had something important ta tell me. This was jus over a year ago... They said, they'd decided they'd reached theer satiation points. No more Fountain visits. In fact, having aged as much as they wanted to, they didn't intend to prolong the process."

Sparrow's eyes squeezed shut. Recalling that moment- Mare's voice ever-so-gently speaking those devastating words- still pierced him like a blade. "These two had been me best mates, an' more, fer lifetimes. An' it weren't natural an' inevitable forces takin' them away- they were _leaving_ me!"

Hyo, a widower, knew a sympathetic nod was the only needed response.

"You may've noticed it's not my usual habit ta try ta dissuade folk from theer life decisions. But I made a vigorous attempt on that occasion. Even evoked a promise James'd made ta me long ago, that he'd never abandon me fer good. I demanded ta know whether his word was actually worth anythin' more than a pile of dung! 'Cept I didn't put it so politely.

"James retained his composure throughout my tantrum. When I'd calmed down enough ta listen, he replied he'd given his word ta never leave me entirely, and he'd meant it. There was a part of himself, and Mare, who'd be stayin' with me. 'Some individuals never really lose their enthusiasm for living. You, Jack, have long since proven to be one. By now we can be sure Lysander Anne is another, and that she'll always want you in your life. For as long as she lives, you'll never be left without a family.'"

Sparrow stopped speaking. He didn't really want to describe the immediate aftermath- himself curled up on that synthasuede sofa, miserable as a heartbroken child. Mare easing his head into her lap, gently toying with his hair. Singing a slightly-edited ballad from a long-ago era, her voice warm and soft as an Everglades breeze:

_"I don't mind spending every day_  
_Out on your corner in the pouring rain..._  
_Look for the man with the broken smile,_  
_Ask him if he wants to stay awhile_

_And he will be loved,_  
_And he will be loved,_  
_And he will be loved..._

_Please don't try so hard to say goodbye_  
_And he will be loved..."_

Hyo broke the silence. "I take it the Norringtons kept to their resolve."

"Never believed they wouldn't. They'd not've revealed such a thing ta me 'less they were certain of their course. So, about a month later, they made theer final crossing. Followed Will an' Liz Turner's example, as I'd related it to 'em."

"I'm sorry- whose example?"

"Nobody you've heard of. Good friends from my original lifetime. William an' Elizabeth made a point of passing away at sea, in case Will's Da was still minding helm an' wanting relief. James and Mare did the same, thinking they might offer similar succor to the Turners. Seemed to 'em that sailing the netherworld whilst providin' a vital service was an acceptable way ta spend eternity." Jack related this quickly- Hyo knew that meant the full tale was a lengthy one he'd prefer to relate separately. "As on that previous occasion, I gave them some assistance, though it was painful beyond anything I've ever done. At the moment of parting James handed me his sword, just like William had done. That's one artifact I'll never relenquish," Jack finished, almost ferociously.

The men were quiet again. Swaying grass clicked and sighed in the afternoon breeze.

Hyo finally asked, "Now that it's only the two of you left, are you planning to tell her?"

Sparrow looked expectantly towards the mahogany clump. Lysee had used the Fountain once before, but Jack hadn't been present then- never seen her newly emerged and replenished. It almost embarrassed him to be so looking forward to the sight. "Might be I will, Hyo. If the circumstances seem right. Have ta take careful soundings before steerin' into such a..."

His words trailed off as graceful movement caught his eye. A woman was emerging from the grove, walking towards then. Entranced, Jack rose to his feet.

Lysander's appearance exceeded his best expectations. Long-limbed, free-striding, dewy and fresh as Botticelli's newborn Venus. Those tresses Jack had always loved, and which Dak had persuaded her to grow past her hips, glowed like embers alongside tanned skin. Emerald glints at her eyes and throat provided perfect countering color.

Royal trotted behind her like an attending Grace, his puppyish frisking curtailed by the pack strapped across his shoulders. This provided a handy container for Lysee's effects, and a comfy saddle for his white-and-black passenger. Georgette needed no Fountain, but was loathe to be separated from her canine pal.

The dog and monkey barked and chittered greetings, as Lysander reached the short-grass mound. She smiled a happy greeting- that lovely high-cheekboned face combined the best features of both parents. Jack experienced a surge of feeling... which, following long habit, he dutifully squashed.

_/ Won't do ta let it show before I've some idea whether 'tis reciprocated! Much better ta have the lass as my acting sister, than scared off altogether. /_

But there was no way he could restrain his ear-to-ear grin. "Luv, yer beautiful as a vision from Greek mythology!"

"So are you, Jack! Except you're darker. And I like that better!" Lysee was eyeing him with similar appreciation. Sparrow felt slightly chagrined, realizing he'd neglected to replace his shorts... but birthday suits were the standard here, weren't they? Even that synonym was appropriate to the situation.

"You look great too, Hyo."

"Thank you, Ms. Norrington." Ack, Sparrow had almost forgotten his protégé was present! Richards had had the presence of mind to slip on a few clothes, and was now unstrapping Royal's pack in case Lysee wanted to do the same. Though Sparrow appreciated his consideration, he wished the young man would now think to slip discreetly away...

More footsteps approached. Jack whirled, prepared to snap that this was a restricted area. But the intruder was Mr. Murphy, in a flat white sun hat and pressed-algae leisure suit. In every era, that man dressed in whatever manner would draw the least attention.

"Good day, sir!" Hyo greeted for all of them.

"Afternoon, Mr. Richards, Ms Norrington, Mr. Sparrow." As usual, Murphy wasted no more time on preliminaries. Upon reaching the mound he unpocketed two objects; a portable holo player and a sheathed holo card.

Mr. Sparrow made a face. "Surely those aren't Mission instructions already?"

Murphy shook his peppered locks. "I'm fulfilling a request made to me by the late Meredith and James Norrington. In the event their daughter Lysander and friend Jack were ever to use the Fountain on the same day, and were both 'unattached', I was to give them a chance to view this holo card together. I assume it contains a message for you both."

Lysander raised a large elegant hand to the pendant at her throat. Jack peered at the card with redoubled interest.

Murphy turned expressionless eyes on the Korean youth. "It'd behoove us to move out hearing range, Mr. Richards. If this turns out to be something they want to share, they can do so later."

"Certainly." Hyo dropped Lysee's bag, shouldered his own, and set off towards the second-closest tree grove.

Murphy handed the half-dome player to Jack, the green-and-silver card to Lysee. Probably to assure it would only be played by mutual consent. "No need to rush. Hyo can take a separate Corridor home. Royal, Georgette; come with me, please."

The dog obediently trotted off beside Murphy. Georgette turned her head and- Jack would swear- bestowed a knowing wink.

The ex-pirate shifted the grapefruit-sized player between his hands. "What do you suppose...?"

"Let's not suppose- let's find out!"

With combined dread and eagerness, Jack positioned the little hemisphere on the ground. Lysee slipped the card into the slot and pressed _Play_.

Two figures shimmered into existence, standing side by side. It was James and Meredith, looking just as the recipients had last seen them. Though gray haired and wrinkled with age, their faces were resolved, eyes weary but alert. The projected figures wore the same semiformal clothes in which they'd set out to sea- perhaps they'd made this recording the very same day. James sported his old gold-trimmed tricorn, over hair nearly as pale as a Naval wig. Mare was bareheaded, the ends of her silver-red mane stirred by a long-ago breeze. Their lined hands were clasped, their gazes turned forward, almost as if they could see their intended audience.

"Ohoh," Lysee gasped, swaying a little. Jack, though hardly less shaken, stepped closer to grasp her hand.

"Greetings, Captain Jack Sparrow." The James hologram nodded fondly, then smiled with great warmth. "Hello, Lysander Anne."

The Meredith holo smiled in a similar way. "This is our final message to our precious girl, and our scampish best friend. If Mr. Murphy has honored our request- which seems likely- the two of you have recently emerged from the Fountain. So you're both young and, I daresay, highly attractive." With a smirk, Mare added, "As I'm sure nether of you needs to have pointed out."

Jack felt a slight blush- his first in decades.

Norrington took over. "This is, therefore, an opportune moment for you two to admit what you feel for each other. Oh yes- we've been aware for some while." His tone remained mercifully matter-of-fact. "Since Lysee was a teenager, you, Jack, have nursed a hope that she might someday come to love you not just as a friend, but as a woman loves a man. I strongly commend you for being willing to wait for the years to mitigate your age difference. Much as I've twitted you about your perpetual immaturity, I actually believe you've improved considerably since our days on your island estate."

"Don't mention it, Commodore... come to think of it, you didn't," Sparrow muttered.

James' green gaze softened. "And you, my darling Lysander, have long since outgrown what you correctly perceived as a 'schoolgirl crush' on Jack. Since then, you've taken enough hard knocks to be able to tell the difference between infatuation and grown-up love. You can now judge your feelings accordingly."

Both holo figures fell silent, apparently aware their listeners needed a minute to exchange some words of their own.

Sparrow looked wonderingly to Lysander. "You had a crush on me? You hid it well, lass!"

A trace of embarrassment flashed across those lively emerald eyes. "'Cause I knew you'd think it was a silly teen infatuation, and you'd be right! And after Amaury I was kinna a cold fish for a long time, an' when I'd finally gotten over him I thought you just didn't think about me that way."

"I was ready to, luv. Jus' needed you ta catch up a bit."

The Commodore cleared his throat. Jack and Lysee returned attention to the holo as it gravely resumed speaking.

"Lysander, we know you and Dakshi loved each other. He was a very fine man; you should always treasure the years you spent together. But you should also have no qualms about leaving them in the past. Regrettable though his death was, it would be nearly as tragic if you let it rule your life. I am absolutely sure Dak would rejoice in your finding a new love. So don't feel any guilt about accepting it, my gattina." The old endearment sent a fast tear down Lysee's cheek.

Mare pushed aside a streaked-copper lock as she spoke. "I suspect one or both of you might be concerned about how we'd view your 'getting involved.' Jack _did_ help care for you as a baby, and filled the role of a big brother through your formative years. But that was well over a lifetime ago- long enough for the relationship to change. So, now that you're the same physiological age, be assured that whatever you decide to do has our unequivocal blessing."

"Indeed," James confirmed. "I've long suspected, Jack, that you might finally 'settle down' if you could find a good woman who was as immortal as you are. It didn't immediately occur to me Lysee could be a candidate... I will admit, that realization came as a bit of a shock. But after some consideration, I decided I had no real grounds to object- you do tend to do the right thing when it really matters. I trust you'll not prove me wrong."

Jack glanced down for a second. _/ I owe 'em an apology- never gave either of 'em credit fer that much understandin'! /_

"Furthermore, you may consider this effective immediately. We're quite aware how it feels, coming fresh out of those waters!" The holo figures exchanged an amorous glance- for a moment they looked decades younger. The hand in Sparrow's gave his a brief, fierce grip.

Mare spoke again. "And Lysee, Jack: there is one more thing. We have a parting gift for you. You'll probably recall I was always asking Murphy as many questions as he'd tolerate. That was how I learned something about the Fountain you may not've suspected. Given reason, Murphy's People can control exactly what 'bonus gift' the water will bestow on a user. So James and I made another request. If you're watching this holo card, it's just been granted."

Jack and Lysee looked to each other again, struck by the same hope...

"Those reproductive dysfunctions you both had? They've been repaired. You can now have children, if you wish to."

Lysee's free hand went to her abdomen. Jack felt weak at the knees again.

Mare leaned forward tenderly. "Mind you, Lysander, though you now have the option, don't feel you're under obligation to 'carry on the family name.' Your younger brothers have already taken care of that." The blue-gray eyes glittered. "Jacob and Geoffrey are well worthy of remembrance. Please try not to forget either of them."

"I won't! Ever!" Lysee touched the emerald pendant, as was her habit when making a promise she intended to keep.

James gave Mare's wrist a soothing pat before speaking again. "And Jack, regarding your conviction you should only sire a single offspring: don't let that be a major discouragement. Your offspring shall eventually be old enough to parent child of their own. As shall that child, and the next. And they'll probably all be around a long while, since your entire line will probably have what it takes to earn Fountain privileges. Jack Sparrow's family may grow slowly, but grow it shall. If you both desire it, Lysander and yourself may become the founders of a most efficacious dynasty of Operatives." Norrington's continence firmed- the imperious Navyman of old. "Should you choose that course, you scalawag, make damned sure you conduct yourself in a manner worthy of my daughter. Or I just _might_ come back to haunt you. I've done more improbable things!"

Jack drew himself straight, snapping a military salute. "Aye-aye, ol' stuffy Commodore!"

"I will add that, for some years now, I've been starting most days with a prayer of gratitude for my failure to hang you... cousin." This comment made Sparrow grin.

Mare's face was aglow with feeling, "Whatever the two of you decide to do with your lives, we certainly wish you all the happiness and adventures you can handle. For as many lifetimes as you might want."

"Every joy to you, my gattina. Chart your course well, Sparrow. Take care of each other!" James gave them a broad-handed wave. "Goodbye, brave souls! May the wind be at your backs!"

James and Meredith leaned close against each other, as Mare performed the same wave. "Farewell, my darlings! Always remember how much we loved you both, and still do!"

The two figures faded- loving faces last of all- as the card concluded. For some seconds Lysee and Jack stared at the empty space, she dabbing at her cheeks, he... blinking hard in the late-day sun.

Finally Lysander stooped to remove the card, carefully returning it to it's sheath before clutching the precious object it to her heart. "Goodbye, Mom and Dad," she almost whispered. Sparrow closed his eyes, projecting- he hoped- a heartfelt _Thank You_ into that back-of-beyond where his friends now sailed.

Lysee shifted to the side, tucked the holo card and player into her pack. Sparrow knelt next to her on the velvety grass, gently brushing her tears away. "It would seem, luv, that the last shoal between us has just been removed. The only matter left to decide is... what do _you_ want?"

She raised her head, glittering verdant eyes locking onto his. There was no need to speak- her answer was there. Jack felt like he was gazing into a harbor he'd long searched for.

He reached to brush copper silk back from her shoulders. "I should mention something. If we have a girl, she may possess a penchant fer conversing with birds. 'Tis a trait from my Mum's side that manifests only in females."

Lysander shifted to face him squarely, flashing that wide, eager smile he also loved. It gave her the look of one determined to live life to it's fullest. "I can deal with that. If you're willing to risk having a kid who knows whether you're telling the truth. It _could _turn out to be a talent that skips generations." Her hands were on his arms, moving to his shoulders before shifting to his chest. "But I do want to decide _when_, so I took a contrap this morning. Just in case."

There was no turning back now. Jack leaned closer, fingertips circling to the back of her left shoulder, feeling the crescent scar there. Reminding him this was a woman of valor. His other hand explored eyebrow, cheek, jawline... paused to tuck a glowing lock below her ear. "Yer good at planning fer contingencies, my luv," he breathed.

Fingers were caressing him too- he felt them move over his throat and jaw, burrowing deep into his hair, while others traced his ribs. Lysee's grin was sly, her breath smelled of herbs. "I think, it's time we both found out, how good we are at certain other things."

Jack's hand continued purposefully over the glinting neck chain and collarbone, curling over the soft mound of her breast. "Lysander Anne... we have an accord."

Their arms wound tight round each other, mouths meeting at last. Like sun-heated copper, hot and brilliant, they melded together.

x

Beside the next clump of trees, Georgette squawked apprehensively. Nightfall was imminent and she preferred not to be caught in the open at moonrise. Royal panted reassuringly. He could sense his human mistress was happy; therefore all must be well.

Murphy and Hyo, who'd been keeping a distant watch, cut eyes. The older man spoke spoke matter-of-factly. "Let's relocate to the further side of this grove, Mr. Richards. I can activate your Corridor just as readily from there."

"I agree, Mr. Murphy."

But as the group of four retreated under the eaves, Hyo couldn't resist a last glance over his shoulder. The rosy half-sun backlit two kneeling silhouettes- a beautiful young couple in close embrace, slowly sinking onto a welcoming grass bed. Small brilliant clouds flared on either side of them, benevolently consuming the old world... clearing space for another to emerge.

By morning, for these, it would be a world reborn.

Time to do some exploring...

x

_To really love a woman, to understand her,_  
_ You've got to know her deep inside,_  
_ Hear every thought, see every dream,_  
_ And give her wings when she wants to fly_  
_ Then when you find yourself lying helpless in her arms,_  
_ You know you really love a woman..._

_ When you love a woman you tell her that she's really wanted,_  
_ When you love a woman you tell her that she's the one,_  
_ She needs somebody to tell her that it's gonna last forever,_  
_ So tell me have you ever really, really really ever loved a woman?_

_ To really love a woman, let her hold you,_  
_ Till you know how she needs to be touched_  
_ You've got to breathe her, really taste her_  
_ Till you can feel her in your blood_  
_ And when you see your unborn children in her eyes_  
_ You know you really love a woman..._

_When you love a woman,_  
_ You tell her that she's really wanted_  
_ When you love a woman,_  
_ You tell her that she's the one_  
_ She needs somebody, to tell her that you'll always be together_,  
_ So tell me have you ever really, really really ever loved a woman?_

_So tell me have you ever really, really really ever loved a woman...?_

xxx

**THE END**

xxx

_'She Will Be Loved' lyrics by Adam Levine and James Valentine._

_'Have You Ever Loved A Woman?' lyrics by Bryan Adams.  
_


End file.
